Stained Glass
Rev. Melanie Harrell Delaney
February 12, 2015
2 Corinthians 4:3-6
3
And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing.4In their
case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them
from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of
God. 5For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and
ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake. 6For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine
out of darkness’, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of
the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.
Mark 9:2-9
2 Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a
high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, 3and
his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach
them. 4And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with
Jesus. 5Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make
three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.’ 6He did not know
what to say, for they were terrified. 7Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from
the cloud there came a voice, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to
him!’ 8Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them anymore,
but only Jesus.
***
I remember the stained glass windows in the sanctuary of my childhood church.
Colorful rectangles with bold colors painting pictures of Jesus’ birth, baptism, the
Lord’s Supper, a cross, and radiant tomb representing the resurrection. I
remember sitting in church with my parents many a Sunday, studying the pictures
of the windows, repeating the story of Jesus in my mind as I glanced from window
to window. At the age of 5 I didn’t catch much of anything the pastor said during
his sermons, but I remember the story of the windows. I remember noticing how
the sunlight shining through those windows left colorful streaks on people’s
cheeks or the walls, or the carpet, wherever the light came through. I liked looking
at all the people with the colors of the stories of Jesus on their faces. It made
them glow, as the light shone in, and I liked to think of it as God painting us with
the colors of heaven.
Our scripture passage this morning is also about light, and about the stories of
Jesus. It is about who Jesus was and who he was becoming. It is about a
moment on a mountaintop where God’s light shone not in a rainbow of color,
but in a blinding white…
The story picks up with Jesus taking a walk with three of his closest friends and
disciples—Peter, James and John. Verse 2 says “six days later,” which points us
back to what had been happing in chapter 8. After a series of miracles and
healings, Jesus starts saying some things that worry the disciples. Things about
the Son of Man enduring great suffering, rejection, and death. Just before the
scripture passage we read this morning, Jesus tells a crowd of people that in
order to follow him, really, they need to deny themselves, take up their cross,
and follow him.
So “six days later,” Jesus James and John are walking up a mountain together.
Mark doesn’t tell us why, or what the disciples know. Perhaps they’re looking
for a place to pray, for a time of rest and renewal. Perhaps they’re talking like
good buddies as they go, kicking rocks and joking around.
But it gets serious when they arrive at the top, for Mark tells us that Jesus “was
transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white,” so white
that not even mom’s best bleaching efforts could match them. Peter, James
and John were astounded then, and dumbfounded next when they saw Elijah
and Moses, two majorly important figures of the Jewish faith, appear out of
nowhere, talking with Jesus on the other side of the rock! Except it couldn’t be
them...they were long dead...what was going on? Were they seeing things?!?
What should they do?
Just as any of us would be in the experience of such an experience, Peter,
James and John were terrified...speechless. Stumbling over his words,
desperate to say something to make sense of this vision, Peter mumbles
quietly, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for
you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”
Some scholars think Peter was referring to the upcoming festival of booths, a
week-long pilgrimage to the Jerusalem Temple in which tents are erected
symbolizing the fragile dwellings of the Israelites during the 40 days of their
exile between slavery and the promised land. Other scholars say that perhaps
Peter was trying to prolong his time on the mountain with Jesus, offering to
make dwelling places so they might stay there awhile. He wants to honor the
vision, honor the moment, make it last.
But as you know, time moves quickly when we aren’t paying attention. Before
the disciples had a chance to ask questions, before they could whip out their
smart phone for a picture (wink) or build those dwelling places, it got dark. A
cloud moved in thick like a fog. One of those eerie moments when a thick cloud
covers the sun and a bright sunny day turns into gloom and shadow within
seconds. I always get chills when that happens. I imagine that the brightness of
Jesus’ clothes seemed to fade instantly and the disciples’ hearts started to race
as they looked around trying to orient themselves, eyes trying to adjust to the
dramatic shift from blinding light to darkness.
And then the voice: ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!’”
We call this Sunday before Lent “Transfiguration Sunday.” Year after year we
hear this story of dazzling white robes, mystical visions, and mountaintop
experiences. Mark’s not the only one who tells of this strange experience. Luke
tells a version as well. So we read it almost every year and my attention usually
lands on the location, the mountain-top experience, or maybe even Peter’s
quick suggestion to build tents there on the mountain. But this year something
else caught my attention. I couldn’t get beyond the dramatic change between
light and dark. The cloud, that shifted the story from blindingly-white clothing
to a dark shadow. And then this: Have you ever noticed that in this story, God
speaks after the darkness falls? God’s voice echoes through the mountain not
while Jesus shines brilliantly and there is no doubt of the holiness of the
moment. Instead, God’s voice is heard just when the cloud descends and the
darkness is most disorienting.
Just this week, a disturbing news story took over the headlines. Kayla Mueller,
a 26-year-old being held hostage by the terrorist group ISIS, was killed by
airstrikes on the terrorist compound where she was being held. Americans
grieved, knowing that she had been killed not by the terrorists, but by our own
bombs. We grieved because she was our own. We grieved because she was
young. And as we learned more about who she was, we grieved because she
was brave and kind and someone who represented the very best of American
idealism and faith.
Kayla was a student at Northern Arizona University when she joined a Campus
ministry and got involved in social action. The Washington Post reported that
“she volunteered nights at a women’s shelter, protested genocide in Darfur
and started a chapter of Amnesty International. She volunteered at a summer
camp for young African refugees in Israel, and she went to Israel’s occupied
territories to show support for Palestinians. She protested torture in
Guantanamo Bay, and she went on a humanitarian mission to Guatemala. In
India, she taught English to Tibetan refugees and to poor women and
children.”
In 2011 Kayla wrote, “I believe that if we can’t handle learning about the
darkest places of our world, they will turn into the darkest places in us…I find
God in suffering,” she wrote, “I’ve known for some time what my life’s work is,
using my hands as tools to relieve suffering.”
Around the time that she wrote these words, Kayla traveled to Turkey to help
Syrian refugees. A year later, Kayla was captured and held hostage for over 18
months. While imprisoned, Kayla wrote a letter to her family.
“I have been shown in darkness, light,” she wrote. “[I] have learned that even
in prison, one can be free… I am grateful. I have come to see that there is good
in every situation, sometimes we just have to look for it. I pray each and every
day that if nothing else, you have felt a certain closeness + surrender to God as
well.”
In the midst of one of the darkest situations any of us can imagine, Kayla wrote
about light. After witnessing great suffering in the world around her, and
enduring her own deep suffering, she continued to see and sense God’s
presence holding her and others. Through the compassion and dedication she
lived, Kayla continues to shine God’s light even after her death.
This is our calling as Christians. Not that every one of us is called to go to Syria
or fight Ebola Liberia or speak the gospel in the heart of drug cartels in Mexico.
We’re not all called to the kind of courageous, dangerous work that many of
our heroes do. But witnessing the light of God that shines through those who,
by faith, give of their lives to alleviate suffering wherever they are, or those
who glow with forgiveness, or compassion, kindness, and strength, reminds us
that all of us, no matter who we are, are bearers of God’s light.
In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul is competing against a group of
“superapostles” who have come to the church suggesting a different
interpretation of Christian faith. The superapostles are preaching a religious
experience of ecstatic joy, a “feel-good” faith. They are telling the Corinthian
Church that Paul is mistaken, blinded in his teaching. For Paul, Christ’s death and
resurrection is a clue to the way God works and is working in our world – bringing
the current reality to an end so that it can be resurrected to a new reality. Paul
taught that all Christians should be ready at any time for the end of the current
world, which would likely bring a degree of suffering, and the beginning of a new
one which would contain only joy. For Paul, the way to new life would come by
way of the cross.
While Paul preached of a “holy discomfort” with the present status of the world,
calling for people to be discontent with brokenness, injustice, scarcity,
exploitation, violence and death all around them, he called o God’s people to
continue working toward God’s vision of community, wholeness, justice,
abundance, peace, love, and life. The superapostles preached a gospel of escape
from the present world, while Paul envisioned a transformation of it.
Paul uses language of a “veil” covering the truth, suggesting that some have
been blinded to the light of God. “For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out
of darkness’, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of
the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” (v. 6) Paul describes a light that
shines in our hearts, that can be visible to others, which then gives glory to
God.
A light that is kindled by attention to God and awareness of the holy all around
us. A light that is fueled by prayer and the in-breathing of the Holy Spirit. A
light that grows brighter every time we make God’s love real to others in our
midst: by unexpected forgiveness granted, by taking time to see the grocery
store cashier, the custodian at work, the disheveled man sitting on a bench as
beloved children of God, by really listening to others, and living as generously
as possible.
“Let’s go,” Jesus says, as the disciples stare blankly. They follow, still not sure of
what they had just seen. As they’re walking, the disciples ask questions. “Did
that really happen?” “Was that really Elijah?” “What were you guys talking
about?” But Jesus doesn’t answer their questions...not yet. Jesus warns the
disciples not to tell anyone what they had seen. Just forget it.
But it was too late. Jesus had been transfigured. The disciples had seen it. Now,
every time they looked at him they would see him differently: dazzling white,
side by side with Elijah, completely mysterious, completely holy...like Yahweh,
God. Their eyes have been opened to a new way of seeing their beloved,
transfigured, friend.
The dictionary definition of transfigure is: “to change in outward form or
appearance; transform. or to change so as to glorify or exalt.”In the vision,
Jesus is transfigured before Peter: scripture describes him as glowing, but it’s
more than that. Something happens that makes Peter respond the way he
does: He wants to prolong the experience, so it’s got to be more than just a
change of clothing appearance. In that moment, Peter begins to understand
something important about Jesus’ very being -- who he really is. This moment
of Transfiguration on the mountain marks a shift in who Jesus is: Until now his
friends have known him as a wise, traveling rabbi. Now, as they go down the
mountain and toward Jerusalem, toward the cross…Jesus becomes divine
savior. The veil has been lifted there on the mountain. Peter starts to see
Jesus...really see him. And something changed on that mountain...was it just
outward appearances? Was it just Jesus who was transfigured?
I doubt it. Visions change us. Mountaintop experiences impact our lives in a
huge way. Even when we come back down, we’re not the same person we
were. If we are lucky in our faith journey, we experience one or two of these
moments: when we find ourselves so blinded by the light of God that it
becomes the spark to light the flame of faith within.
But even if these moments aren’t so dramatic or ecstatic, even if we can’t
name the precise moment when we were changed, being a Christian should
change us. Experiencing God with wide open hearts and minds should
transform and transfigure us, too, lighting a fire within to compel us forward in
God’s call for us to join with the Holy One in redemption and healing of the
world.
I wonder whether Kayla Mueller had a mountain-top moment that illuminated
her call to help others? Was it a mission trip? A particular experience that
taught her to really see people the way God sees them? Did she have a difficult
time in her own life, through which God held her and in which she learned the
strength of her own light?
For surely, the clouds can be thick sometimes. Daylight always turns to Night
and the winters can seem far too long. But we are reminded by Mark, and the
story of the Transfiguration, that God’s light does shine and God’s voice is
heard especially in the darkness.
Elizabeth Kubler-Ross once said, “People are like stained-glass windows. They
sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true
beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.”
As a child, I used to think that the stained glass windows were a gift, a secret
that only the people on the inside God to know. The light streaming from the
sun, reflecting on people’s faces was so brilliant and beautiful. But my
perspective shifted once when my family left the church after a late-night
worship service. I happened to look up to the windows of the church, which I
assumed would be dark as usual from the outside. But they weren’t! The
windows were glowing with a sparkle I had never seen before, lit by the light of
the worshipping community within. It was then that I realized that the stained
glass wasn’t just a gift for us on the inside, but for everyone. And in fact, the
windows were even more beautiful when the light from within shone into the
dark night outside.
Elizabeth Kubler-Ross once said, “People are like stained-glass windows. They
sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true
beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.”
I loved those windows. And I remember once driving by our church and looking up
to where the windows were, being terribly disappointed that from the outside the
pictures didn’t glow. The windows were dark. From then on I considered the
beauty of the stained-glass an insider secret, something that God made special for
Sunday mornings when we were in church.
Mountaintop experiences have a way of doing that -- ending too quickly and
pointing us back down to the valley.
1. Transfiguration is about change. Jesus was changed before Peter’s eyes
a. what was the purpose? To signal a shift in his story – from wandering
rabbi to divine savior.
2. We don’t like change. Fear it actually. (Peter’s fear?)
3. Change and darkness are synonymous to us
4.
Charles F. Kettering once said, “People are very open-minded about new things, as
long as they’re exactly like the old ones. “