Transfiguration of Our Lord

The first time I met God face-to- face was when I was struck by lightning. I was about 19 or 20 years old and pumping gas for boats at a marina on Lake Erie in Ohio. My college didn’t start school until later in the summer than everyone else, which meant that I was often working alone on the dock and there weren’t as many boaters out that time of year.

The dock was a rectangle with gas pumps on three sides where boats could

pull up with a small shack in the middle that housed the cash register and credit card processing equipment. The fourth side had the door and then there was a narrow road that took you back to the main part of the marina. As it sat on a peninsula, the shack was equipped with panoramic windows in order to see boats in all directions.

On this particular day, I was alone out at the dock, almost finished with my shift. It had been a slow weekday with very few boats needing anything from me. There was news that a storm was brewing. I really hate storms. Out the window to the west, I saw a thick veil of rain. Nearly black, like night approaching with the precision of a well-planned invasion. The stormy curtain seemed to cross Lake Erie indefinitely.

Did I mention that I hate storms? I saw the blackness approaching and frantically started closing out the register so I could get off the dock before the storm hit. As I peeked to the west, the ominous shadow marched closer minute by minute. A procession of white caps led the charging storm. I raced around that tiny shack printing forms and counting money. But I couldn’t keep up. The storm bolted across the lake so fast that I got swallowed by it.

That’s when it happened. All in the matter of a millisecond, everything went pitch black then blindingly white. Or vice versa - I wish I'd written it down. The shack shook with a roarious POP! The credit card machine I'd been working on went haywire and my arm and leg went numb. My ears rang. Lightning had struck.

I screamed. And screamed and screamed. My scream was staccato and

relentless, "AHH, AHH, AHH, AHH ... ". Only after I yelped my throat dry did I cry. It dawned on me that I was literally sitting atop hundreds of gallons of gasoline. But by then the storm was over, at least for me. Just as quickly as it had hit, it continued its rampage to go terrorize someone else.

I scrambled to get my things and escape to my car. And when I opened the shack door to get out of there, God was right there. When I opened that door, perfectly arched in the doorway was a rainbow. I gasped and stopped dead in my tracks. And then I started laughing. I laughed just as wildly as I had screamed. Out of wonder and awe and sheer relief. I know in my soul that rainbow was God saying, "Get up and do not be afraid."

The storm of Jesus's impending crucifixion is marching towards Jesus and his disciples in today's gospel. Just before today's reading, we have Jesus famously telling Peter, "Get behind me, Satan!" (Matt. 16:23) when poor Peter tries to hush Jesus from talking about the great suffering to come. Jesus then tells his disciples, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me" (Matt. 16: 24) Remember that for Jesus's followers, the cross was not only a metaphor (at least not yet) but a very real tool of political oppression and terror. In Matthew 16, our gospel writer says that "Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the leaders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed." (Matt. 16:21) What Jesus is describing is absolutely terrifying.

So I think it's quite an act of compassion when Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up to the mountain so they can better understand that something beyond horrifying suffering is at hand. And, let's just take a minute with this mountain. All three readings today talk about mountains - I'm sure you caught that. Jesus didn't take Peter, James, and John to the most beautiful synagogue, did he? No, he took them even deeper into creation to reveal himself. And what does Peter, the epitome of humanness, do when he sees Jesus's divinity literally shining forth in front him? He offers to contain it. Not out of any kind of malice, but from a misguided sense of hospitality. He says, "wow - I'm happy to pitch three tents here so that you guys have somewhere safe and warm to be." I wonder if he wanted someplace to go to visit them. To make what he was seeing more real by marking the actual location of this divine miracle. As though the mountaintop, or creation itself, is somehow lacking in holiness or sanctity. How often do we regard creation this way? I'm sure I'm not the only one in this room who has had a mystical encounter with God or Jesus. Show of hands - was anyone else met by the divine outside? I think that’s very much worth noting.

But God interrupts Peter while he's trying to process the sight of a dazzling Jesus alongside Moses and Elijah - I mean can you even imagine? - with a phrase that we know so well, "This is my Son, the Beloved with [whom] I am well pleased" (Matt.17: 5). Where did God say this before? That's right! At Jesus's baptism, which was the first Sunday of Epiphany. Now, here we are on the last Sunday of Epiphany hearing the same words. But this time, God adds, "Listen to him". And there it is. That is the epiphany for today.

Because in those verses from Matthew 16 that precede today's gospel, Matthew writes that Jesus also told his disciples that he would be raised on the third day (Matt. 16: 21). But that detail doesn't make into his disciples' consciousness. They get stuck in their fear of the suffering and don't listen to the whole story that Jesus is telling them.

In our Thursday morning Bible study, we talked about the difference between hearing and listening. True listening necessitates a curious stance, one that wants to know the whole story in a search for meaning. It is about letting the words, body language, or silence of the other seep into your heart to reach understanding or at least empathy. What Jesus is telling us about his impending torture is terrifying. Listening means being fully present within that overwhelming fear. Listening is hard in calm situations. It is especially difficult and perhaps even more important in dangerous ones. For his original disciples, crucifixion was a tangible reality. For Jesus to talk about his imminent death on a cross, it might have been akin to saying "I will be hung from a lynching tree and then come back" or "I will be executed by electric chair but will see you again".

Did you have a reaction to those images? Did you get stuck on the first parts that described a worst nightmare and not listen as well to the parts that point to the resurrection?

Fear is arguably one of the most powerful emotions and fear centered from love is especially potent. Poor Peter, James, and John are stuck in that kind of fear and need Jesus to shake them out of it. God tells them and now us to listen to Jesus - like, listen to the whole story, not just the terrifying parts. We are called to really listen to Jesus's teachings about how the kin-dom of God will overturn injustice. Listen to Jesus's promise that "the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father" (Matt. 16: 27). Listen to Jesus when he touches you and says, "Get up and do not be afraid" (Matt.17: 8).

Presumably nothing in the story changes because of the Transfiguration. The storm of the Passion story marches on. The cruelty of the crucifixion will be realized. Lightning still strikes. But everything about the story changes - it's what Peter is trying so hard to tell followers in today's second reading. For Peter, James, John, and those of us who listen to this story, the experience of the crucifixion is transformed. When we follow God's command to listen to Jesus, truths we didn't realize existed become illuminated. They shine like the sun. Our relationship to the divine becomes more intimate, more tangible, more wondrous. And within the safety of that awe, perhaps we can find the strength to carry our cross and walk with Jesus through unimaginable injustice and persecution. The storm of the crucifixion is marching towards us and while it's terrifying, if we listen to Jesus, we do not need to be afraid. Because we know that within this broken-hearted, panic-stricken state of being, Jesus will find us, will dazzle us, and will touch us with his healing hand. And we will see the rainbow and we will laugh.

Transfiguration of Our Lord