A Sermon Delivered by The Rev. John D. Painter at Centenary United Methodist Church Metuchen, New Jersey February 6, 2005 (Transfiguration Sunday)

Text: Matthew 17:1-9; Exodus 24:12-18

Have you ever had a mountaintop experience? One of those moments when time itself seemed to stand still? A moment when things seemed crystal clear? When you felt overwhelmed by something that was beyond yourself? I have, and I suspect almost every one of us has at some time or another…perhaps many times.
A German theologian, Rudolph Otto, coined a word to describe this kind of mountaintop experience. He called it numinous—meaning that it goes beyond anything that we can rationally describe. We know that the moment is filled with awe, is overwhelming and fascinating. We are drawn to it. But if we were asked to put it in words, we may find ourselves stammering in our feeble attempts to explain what we experienced.

Yet it did happen. It was real. And even if we don’t have the words at our disposal to ex-plain what we felt, if we can accept the reality of the experience, “…if we can admit that [it] could be God cracking open the crust that forms on our daily routines, we may start to see, hear, and feel the presence of an everyday God.”
I suspect that it would be a long time before Peter, James and John would find the words to describe their mountaintop experience with Jesus. While it was something they would carry with them for the rest of their lives, they clearly did not get what was going on at the moment. They did not know what to say or to do as they saw Jesus transfigured before them. They were seeing him in an entirely different way. They received a glimpse of what heaven looks like. God was breaking in through the “crust” of their daily routines.

Peter—ever impetuous Peter—tries to say something, but only manages to stick his foot in his mouth. Let’s stay in this rarified air forever. Let’s make a monument to this event. But Je-sus seems to say to him, “No, Peter, you don’t get it yet. Words fail you, so don’t use them now. Later you will understand.” Peter and the others would not know what any of this meant until after the resurrection.

But that is in the distant future. Jesus knows that Jerusalem lies on the road ahead and the shadow of Calvary’s cross looms before him. He knows that things will soon change radically. Jesus is beginning to prepare the disciples to carry on after he is gone. Peter may want to en-shrine this mountaintop experience and “stay in the moment” forever. But Jesus is calling him and the others to join him on the journey down the mountain. Taking with them what they have seen and experienced, it is time to re-enter the valley of reality. “Worship has ended…Service begins.”

You see, this mountaintop story is about more than just the glory of Jesus Christ. It would be mistaken to picture Jesus as a serene and untouchable ball of divine power, one that floats through the sky above all the trials and troubles and temptations of this world. Jesus is, very clearly, One who has to deal with heartbreak and agony, struggle and suffering, floggings and mockings and an agonizing death on a cross. The very same face that shines like the sun on the mountaintop is the face that will be kissed by Judas in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26:49), and will be spat upon and slapped by the scribes and the elders who cry out for his death (Matthew 26:66-68). Such abuses and agonies may be difficult for us to comprehend, and even tougher for us to accept—but they were all anticipated by Jesus on the day of transfiguration.

Source of our energy. Connection to power. Heartbreak and agony, struggle and suffer-ing. Somehow these contradictory pieces all come together in Jesus. The link between these shat-tered fragments is found in verse 7, when Jesus touches the disciples and says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” Suddenly the greatest power in the universe is concentrated into a touch. The im-age of the invisible God is seen in the face of a caring man. The source of all light and life on earth is revealed to be Jesus of Nazareth, the One who walks with us down the mountain, and stays with us through all our hardships, reminding us that God is with us, always with us, and that God will never let us go.

“Get up and do not be afraid.” That’s what the mightiest power in the universe says to us when we feel frustrated by failure, ransacked by bad relationships, battered by betrayal, soiled by sin, and depressed by mental, physical or spiritual deterioration. “Get up,” says Jesus. “I am of-fering you light and new life.” The marvelous promise of the resurrection is that there is always new life to be found on the other side of suffering and death. “Do not be afraid,” counsels Jesus. “I am going to walk with you, and assure you of the presence of God in your life.” The greatest guarantee of Christ’s companionship is that nothing in all creation—no pain or crying, suffering or dying—can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:39).

So cherish your own mountaintop experiences, those numinous moments that draw us into close encounter with God. And while we may not be able to explain them adequately with words, if we can accept the reality of the experiences, “…if we can admit that they could be God cracking open the crust that forms on our daily routines, we may start to see, hear, and feel the presence of an everyday God” who journeys with us into and through the valleys of our reality.

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PRAYER
We thank you, O God, that there is always more to you than we have yet seen, always a new divine color to your life that will show forth in its vividness if we will pause to see it. In the deeps of our bodies, hearts, souls, and minds there is a thankfulness for who you are, O God. Our words can never describe you and our thoughts can never hold you, for you are beyond that. Thanks be to you, O God. Amen.
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During this past week, I encountered a story of transfiguration by Jim Taylor in Currents which I want to share with you as we prepare to receive the Invitation to Holy Communion:

Is Transfiguration Limited to Christ?
“Once, when I was very young, my father took me with him to a village in India for a communion service.

“There was no church; the people gathered under a big tree.

“The bread was a simple chapatti, a flat bread made without yeast—like pita bread, or the unleavened bread of the Exodus.

“The village couldn’t afford glasses. So the elders served the “wine” in little cups made out of leaves folded into a cone and stitched together with a thorn.

“I remember the utter stillness of the group. Something special was happening.

But I only realized recently why it was so significant an event for them.

“Under the ancient caste systems of India, higher castes will not allow as much as the shadow of a lower caste person to touch them. To share food with someone of a lower caste would be unthinkable.

“Many of the Indian Christians had been low caste—or “untouchables” whose occupa-tions as latrine cleaners and street sweepers made them unacceptable even to the lowest castes. This symbolic meal represented a complete transformation of their world. They were no longer outcasts. Suddenly, they were equals, in God’s eyes and in the eyes of the Christian community.

“They had been transfigured.”

May we approach the table of Christ this morning with hearts full of expectation that through the bread and “wine” of Christ, we will be transfigured.

1 Jim Taylor in An Everyday God (Wood Lake Books, 1991), quoted in Aha!, February 6, 2005, p. 29.
2 Dan Yeazel, “Preaching the text” in AHA , p. 29.
3 See Ibid.
4 See “The Stormy Star” in Homiletics, January-February 2005, pp. 48-49.
5 “Prayer of Thanksgiving” from Lectern Resource: Year A (January, February, March 2005), p. 21.
6 Jim Taylor in Currents, quoted in “One Last Thing,” AHA!, p. 30.