February 15, 2015
LETTING MYSTERY BE
Mark 9: 2-9
Preface to the Word
There’s something about mountaintops that call out to the human spirit. Somewhere deep in the
human story, we associated mountaintops with sacred space, with holy space… probably because
in the ancient view of the cosmos, the flat earth was in the center of everything and the gods, or
God, resided in the heavens just beyond the vast blue bowl that covered the earth. Since God was
“up there,” one could get much closer to God by ascending to the top of a mountain.
We seem to still have this innate sense that high places are holy places, but any more people just
climb mountains for the challenge, the adventure, the view, the exercise. Here is a couple of old
photos of folks on the top of Mount Nebo looking out over a very young Roseburg.
I haven’t climbed to the top of very many mountains, although I’ve scaled a few. When I was a
kid growing up outside of San Diego, our town was surrounded by hills littered with large
granite boulders. I can’t tell you how many times we kids from the neighborhood climbed to the
top of The Twin Peaks, just outside our tract housing. Back then we could look out over groves
of orange trees and avocados, which have now been developed into housing.
One mountain I climbed is Tabletop Mountain in the Columbia Gorge. They promised me it
would a spectacular view, but it rained all the way up and once I arrived at the top, panting and
puffing, the clouds hung low and I couldn’t see a thing. I was disappointed.
While in Pocatello I climbed to the top of the highest peak, which overshadowed the valley and
town below. Kinport Peak is about 9,000 ft in altitude and once on top, we sat down and drank
in the spectacular view. Mountains and valleys, lakes and towns stretched out before us. We
could see at least a hundred miles into the distance.
There’s a unique view from the top of a mountain. Now that air travel is so common, these
views from on high are not all that unusual any more. But in ancient times, the mountaintop
perspective was holy. Up there, you were close to God. The whole world stretched out before
you, the whole world looked different from up there. It’s a view you just don’t get from down in
the valley.
It just so happens that I have also been to the top of the mountain where tradition says Jesus was
transfigured. It’s called Mt. Tabor and it is a huge mound of a mountain that lifts up from the
floor of the Jezreel Valley. Here on the mountaintop, high above the valley, close to God, it is
said that Jesus’ appearance was “transfigured” before his disciples.
On this last Sunday of Epiphany, known as Transfiguration Sunday, let’s consider together how
Mark tells the story in chapter 9.
Scripture Reading: Mark 9: 2-9
Sermon
I.
A. Here on the mountaintop, everything is changed. Mark struggles to describe it. He says
Jesus’ clothes were shining... they were “whiter than white” the original Greek says.
Obviously words fail us in moments like this. Our language can hardly describe the
experience.
B. This pivotal, turning-point event occurs half way through Mark’s Gospel. Jesus’ ministry,
which began with his baptism by John, has healed broken bodies, has restored to health those
who were ill, has cast out demons, has performed remarkable miracles, has proclaimed good
news in word and action... and still the disciples did not fully comprehend. This major
section of Mark’s gospel actually begins back in chapter eight with the healing of a blind
man. It ends in chapter 10 with the healing of another blind man. On either side of this
segment of Mark’s gospel, Jesus deals with blindness and gives sight to those that cannot see.
C. But so far, his own disciples are still blind to whom he really is. Just a few verses back, Peter
blurt out his confession that Jesus is the Christ of God. But we soon discover that he and
others were expecting a Christ who demolishes suffering rather than a Christ who suffers
himself. And although Jesus repeatedly predicts his death, they just can’t see it.
D. Now, in this stunning moment on the mountain, by the grace of God, the heavens are opened
and they see... and it starts to make some sense. And, like them, we have our moments of
recognition. We’ve had our own mountaintop encounters with Christ when things were
brilliantly real and startlingly powerful... at least for a moment our eyes were opened, our
hearts were excited, our spirits responded with an unequivocal “yes.” And as it was with
Jesus’ first disciples, these moments for us are sporadic, momentary, and awesomely
wonderful.
E. They can also be terrifying! Peter, Mark says, did not know what to say because they were
“terrified.” In these dazzling, amazing moments, we know we are on unfamiliar ground. We
know something is going on, we’re just not quite sure what.
F. Peter wants to construct something up there on that mountain, to build some kind of structure
to hold this moment and fix it in place… to domesticate it, nail it down, capture it, preserve
it. But while Peter is speaking, a “cloud” overshadows them all. The cloud is an important
symbol in the Bible, used in both the Old and New Testaments to represent the mysterious
presence of God. And out of this fog, so to speak, there is that voice again, the one that spoke
at Jesus’ baptism. The one that said, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.”
G. The voice spoke to Peter, as it speaks to us… “Peter, put down you tent pegs. Don’t do
anything. Don’t talk. Don’t plan. Don’t build a structure, don’t create a committee, don’t
develop a program right now. Just listen.”
Listen... Just listen, and let mystery be…
II.
A. Ah, we have such a hard time with mystery.
I often reflect upon the nature of my preaching because preaching the Word of God is an
awesome responsibility and a genuine joy for me. I try to make it simple and understandable,
but I’ve realized for a long time that I’m not a very good “how to” preacher; that is, I don’t
offer very many directives for how you might best work on whatever Bible truth we’re
addressing on any given Sunday. I probably should. After all, in our discipleship seasons
such as LentenQuest 2015 (which we are launching in a few minutes with a ceremony of
dedication) we are striving to equip people with a faith that works in real life. It’s a worthy
goal for this church, and our worship and my sermons should be a part of all that.
B. But I also want to say here, on Transfiguration Sunday, that worship is more than a how-to
session. It’s more than receiving weekly assignments on how to become better people and
live better lives. In worship there should be a sense of awe, of wonder, where there are these
delicious dazzling moments when, much to our surprise we rise above all our plans, and our
projects, and our efforts and we go beyond our “doing” to our “being”… we are taken to the
mountaintop. In those incredible and unpredictable pinnacle holy moments we are given a
new perspective, a view of God that transforms us, a glance at Jesus Christ that literally
dazzles us. In moments like this we are not meant to plan, or to program, or to fix in place.
We are invited simply to enjoy it, to let the mystery and wonder be, and to listen to God
speaking to us.
C. You know, when it was all over, the cloud disappeared, the voice stopped speaking and there
was silence. The only instruction Jesus gave to his disciples was to not tell anyone about
what they experienced, not until later after he had died and been raised.
D. Can you recall ever having a moving religious experience of some kind? Big or small?
Maybe it literally was on a mountaintop when you looked down into the valley and saw the
whole world differently than you had seen it before. Maybe it was here, or someplace like
here in worship on a Sunday morning, when you felt the nearness of God, as if God was there
before you or around you or in you in dazzling radiance. Maybe it was during a time of
being alone, a time of quiet in your own room in prayer or meditation. Maybe it was in a
class or at a meeting or reading a book or in a moment of prayer… or in an instant of
amazing and profound grace being extended to you or another person.
E. What are we to make of such moments?
You know, maybe that’s not even the right question, or at least not the right first question to
ask. That’s a question Peter would ask. Like him, our first impulse will be to define such
moments, to pin them down, to shelter them, to preserve them, to tell others what they are
supposed to do with them afterward.
F. The reality is that we always come down off that mountain and down into the valley. We
may not know what to do next, what to say next, where to go next. But the experience is
real, and we’ve seen God in a way we haven’t before, and a voice has spoken to us.
The important thing is that we listen; that we hear the reassuring voice.
G. And if the voice in the cloud is true, as we are trying to believe it to be, the voice that said
this hard-to-comprehend Jesus is “my Son, the Beloved,” God in the flesh, then there are
going to be gaps in our understanding, there are going to be recognizable spaces between us
and Christ. We simply can’t know everything. We just don’t have all the answers.
H. In the long run, as we stumble along after Jesus – whether as a church family or as individual
Christians, who sometimes see clearly and are dazzled by God’s glory and sometimes don’t
know what’s going on or what to do – the point is not that we have all the answers. No, the
point is that we have a relationship with Jesus Christ, and that we experience his life-giving
presence. The point is that this transforming relationship is better even than having all the
answers!
III.
A. The season of Lent begins this week with Ash Wednesday. Coming off the mountaintop,
Jesus has set his sights on Jerusalem. There in the distance. A Savior who dies. God on a
cross. It’s all very strange, hard to comprehend. We may wonder what is going on here?
We, like the first disciples, may ask, “What kind of Messiah is this, anyway?”
B. And then, in some stunning moment, in one magnificent glimpse, we see who Jesus is.
Hopefully that’s going to happen to each of us in some way as we follow through on the
commitments we make today to engage God, engage one another and engage life on our
LentenQuest. Hopefully, somewhere along the Lenten path we take to the looming
crucifixion and the mind-blowing resurrection, our blindness will clear and we’ll see. And
even though we won’t always comprehend everything, we’ll listen. And though we do not
have all the answers, we’ll have faith.
And we’ll discover that our life down in the valley is a life lived in God’s glory!