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
