Today's Sermon at St. Andrew's in Mer Rouge

Close Encounters of the Holy Kind

Each time I read or hear the account of the transfiguration in Luke’s Gospel (9:28-43a, NRSV), I wish I could ask the writer a question. “Well,” I would say, “which was it? Were the disciples awake or asleep when Jesus had his chat with Moses and Elijah?”

It sounds like the writer was not sure. He says they were awake, but immediately that they were heavy with sleep. But they do see Jesus blazing with light and conversing with the two most prominent prophets of the Hebrew tradition: Moses and Elijah.

By the way, I totally identify with the plight of the disciples in this story. There they are, so tired from trekking around after Jesus that they can hardly keep their eyes open for a most glorious event to transpire in front of them!

As one who falls asleep at her computer with some regularity, I am completely sympathetic! But I wonder: How often do we miss one of God’s very special moments because of weariness or everyday distractions?

The disciples, being practicing Jews, certainly knew the story of Moses’ own transfiguration experience, as told in today’s Old Testament lesson (Exodus 34:29-35, NSV). But that account too gets a bit confusing, with all the veiling and unveiling of Moses face. I lose track. When was his face veiled and when not? How did the Israelites know that Moses’ face was shining if he put a veil over it?

And why—given that the glow from his face signaled that he had been speaking with God… why did he hide it from the people anyway? Seems to me if I had that kind of visible proof that I spoke God’s true word, I would want everyone to see it!

The world of dreams and visions and mountaintop transfigurations is strange and mysterious. It seems to be poised somewhere between sound asleep and wide awake, somewhere between hard-nosed reality and pure hallucination. It’s probably not surprising that the Biblical accounts seem fuzzy on the details.

I imagine most of us have had at least one experience something like those described in today’s lessons—a mountaintop experience, a vision or dream that changed our life.  And we’re not sure afterward whether we were awake or asleep, whether it happened or we imagined it.

Of course, there are those among us who scoff at such things. Those who take pride in being realists. Those who believe that dreams are just dreams and visions always frauds, and nothing is real save what we apprehend with our human senses and rational minds.

The human intellect is a wonderful thing and a great gift from God that we should use to its fullest capacity. But in comparison to the mind of God, human intellect is profoundly limited.

I am sorry for those who live so thoroughly inside their own cranium that they cannot find meaning in dreams, visions and mountaintop experiences. Their world is small. They are not available to be transformed by a close encounter of the holy kind!

In his second letter to the Corinthians (3:12 - 4:2, NRSV), Paul certainly does not hesitate to find meaning in Moses’ transfiguration. In fact, he makes it almost entirely metaphoric. He says the veiling of Moses’ face stands for the closed minds of the Israelites, who could not enter into the mystery of Christ precisely because of their closed minds.

I actually think that’s a bit of a cheap shot on the part of Paul, who perhaps got a bit carried away with making his case for the greater glory of Jesus. Moses clearly was transformed in visible ways by his encounter with God. Veiling his face can be readily understood as an act of humility, not to mention a practical move to avoid frightening the folks.

We are about to enter Lent, a time of reflection and listening for the voice of God. That requires an open mind. It requires letting go. It requires loosening our grip on the comfort and security of reality as we think we know it.

And that takes courage. If we enter into the presence of God with an open mind, we indeed put ourselves in the way of transformation, God’s transformation. Who knows what shifting of the tectonic plates of our world that might produce!

The disciples were so rattled by the experience that they couldn’t think straight. Luke says Peter didn’t even know what he was saying when he suggested they build shelters and stay inside the vision forever. I can identify with that, too. Who wants so glorious an experience to end? Don’t we all want to stay on the mountain top!

But moments later, there they are: The cloud lifts, the prophets have disappeared, Jesus isn't glowing anymore. Welcome back to reality. 

And here’s perhaps the most important part of this story: Reality has not changed. The world has not changed.

Now they must head for Jerusalem, and we all know what happens there. Jesus still must die. The world is still hurting. Still full of sick people, desperate people. Indeed, a sick child and a desperate father are waiting for Jesus at the foot of the mountain.

And what does Jesus do when he comes down off the mountain fresh from his transfiguration experience? He goes right back to work. The first thing he does is heal a sick child.

See, close encounters with God are not for the purpose of making the world a rosy place for us. They are not designed to transform the world. They are designed to transform us.

Not long ago, I was perusing the stream of photos I access daily through the online social network called Google+. I happened across an image someone had found online and re-shared. It was a photograph of a small, dark-skinned boy on his hands and knees drinking water from a muddy, foul-looking drainage ditch. Lack of clean drinking water is a major problem in much of the world.

Someone had posed a question below the photo: Why does God allow this? I was quick to respond: God doesn’t allow this, I wrote. We do.

Why do we keep expecting God to take care of what we’ve been put in charge of? How much of our prayer life do we spend asking God to fix the world, rather than inviting and being open to God transforming us?

Ruth Burrows is a Carmelite nun who has written several books about encounters with God through prayer and contemplation. In one of them called Before the Living God she says this:

If I let God take hold of me more and more; possess me, as fire possesses the burning log, then I give off light and heat to the whole world even though the influence be completely hidden. ( from Edge of the Enclosure, online 2/10/13)

May we be transformed by our own encounters of the holy kind this Lenten season.

AMEN