The Oscars are on tonight. As
usual, there will be lots of famous people dressed up real fancy, lots of
dramatic acceptance speeches cut off by music, and—let’s face it—lots of hoopla
about movies many of us haven’t seen and probably won’t ever have time to see. Although
I’m really not much of a movie buff, I confess I always feel a tinge of
embarrassment that I’m not more current with this aspect of our culture. Hollywood
still seems like a big deal these days, but I’m just not always very aware of what
it’s saying. I suppose a large reason for this is because I’ve been so terribly
disappointed by movies in the past. There are some good ones out there, but all
too often I’ve sat in front of a screen and paid good money only to watch
something that makes me wish I had that two hours of my life back.
Regardless, I will probably
watch a few minutes of the show tonight with a bit of interest, and when I do,
I’ll find myself hoping that none of what they do and say will spoil the various
Best Picture nominees for me, or reveal too much of how the movies end up. I
suppose there is some off-chance I might see one or two of them someday down
the road and I’d want to be moved, surprised, caught off guard. I’d want to be
swept along by the storyline…to be held in the palm of the director’s hand…learn
or experience just what I’m supposed to from the story.
Therefore, no plot spoilers,
please, during tonight’s festivities.
Good for us, however, that Jesus
doesn’t really listen to that wish this morning, because his transfiguration is
a pretty important glimpse of his final ending, a clue for those who will
listen as to how this whole Son of Man thing is going to come together in the
end. It’s a pretty extraordinary reveal, although it looks like its effect
might be lost on everyone there. First of all, it’s not clear that Peter,
James, and John realize the importance of what they’re glimpsing at the top of
that mountain in southern Galilee. At first their reaction is one of wonder, but
later they become afraid of what they’ve just experienced. They freeze in fear,
but do they really grasp the fact they’ve just witnessed the most obvious
revelation of Jesus’ identity since, perhaps, his baptism? It’s not entirely
clear.
Secondly, Jesus’
transfiguration might not really be considered a plot spoiler because no one who
witnesses it could have a clue just how drastically things are going to change as
soon as they come down that mountain. I mean, talk about disappointing
storylines! This one will take the cake. From dazzling light and visions of
glory with Israel’s most famous prophets in front of a select audience of
disciples, to a dark and humiliating journey in a valley of tears in front of
hundreds of people crying for his blood—this plot is no blockbuster. It’s a
disaster. It will be easy to see why none of the disciples seem to remember
this shining moment once they get into the thick of things. And, even if they
do happen to remember, even if they do fully grasp what they’ve just
experienced on that mountaintop, Jesus has specifically ordered them not to
spoil the plot for anyone else. “Don’t
tell anyone about this,” he says, “until
everyone has watched the whole thing through, Jerusalem and all, and the
ending credits are rolling.”
 |
| The Transfiguration of Christ (Lorenzo Lotto, 1511) |
The transfiguration itself is
a very mysterious event that stretches the imagination of the modern mind. It’s
hard for those of us to get a handle on what exactly is happening. Three of the
four gospel writers all report this event and they all agree on the major
details: Jesus and his closest disciples ascend a mountain probably somewhere in
southern Galilee for an experience that is remarkably similar to what happened
to Moses on Mount Sinai centuries earlier. While they’re on top of the
mountain, Jesus’ physical appearance somehow changes, involving bright light
and really white clothes and the arrival of Israel’s two greatest prophets. That
a cloud then descends upon them is the most believable part of this whole
experience (haven’t you ever been on top of a mountain when a cloud rolls in?) and
then a voice booms through the fog to announce that Jesus is God’s beloved Son and
deserves to be listened to. That’s when the disciples freak out. A cloud is
scary enough, but the mysterious voice sends them over the edge, figuratively
speaking. They cower in fear until Jesus comforts them with a touch of his
hand, in the same way he’s healed so many others.
The transfiguration, this
peek at the final revelation of Jesus’ glory, is strange to us. We’re far more comfortable
with Jesus doing ordinary, everyday things like teaching and telling parables and
hanging out with the outcasts. This is a little bit…well, it’s a little bit
Hollywood. It’s a little bit science fiction shoved into the ancient hills of first
century Palestine. Special effects and CGI technology have no place here.
Yes, we all long to be
transfigured along the way of life, to have communion with a God who draws close
to his children, to be lifted, if however briefly, from life’s lowly valley. This
is the crux of whatever is occurring with Jesus this morning, as fanciful as
his experience sounds As Peter quickly learns, however, and as we all come to
understand, this is not going to be all bright lights and famous people all the
time, it’s not all “Hey, let’s build three huts and call it a life!” No, life
with Jesus, for now, does not consist of one, long, uninterrupted at Eagle
Eyrie Retreat Center, not matter how wonderful it is. Jesus knows there is more
of the road to be explored. and that is why we and Jesus’ other disciples might
need this vision of Jesus’ end at this moment in time.
For there is more of the plot
to come, and it’s not going to be just some award-winning performance. It’s
going to be awful reality. Remember? We’re going to see the trial and hear the
shouts of “Crucify!” and we’re going to get terribly disappointed that the plot
has gone this way. Messiahs and Sons of Man aren’t supposed to hang on a cross.
People who consult with Moses and Elijah aren’t supposed to be rejected by the
people. And the really disappointing news is that the three close disciples, the
ones who get to glimpse this glory on Mount Tabor, the ones who should hold
this experience closest, vanish when the whips and nails and wood are brought
out. The really disappointing news is that the ones of us who often feel the
highest spiritual highs, whether in congregational life or in private devotion,
are the ones who bail when times get tough…or even just plainly ordinary.
The good news, though, is
that God’s decision to reveal his glory to us never depends on our ability to
stay faithful to the vision or the promise. Our salvation does not depend on
our determination in going through the church workout, in reading up on revival
or the amount of times we go to the Bible. When everything is said and done, God
gets close to us not by asking us to approach to his light, but by climbing
down into our dark world. As we look in disappointment at the Jesus of Good
Friday’s disaster, and especially as we confront our own fear and our tendency
to turn our backs on this Son of Man’s humility, as we trudge almost hopelessly
through the dark valleys of our own life, let’s carry this vision of Jesus so
we remember that Golgotha is not his final hill.
So, Jesus, now that you’re
risen, we have a request. Forget what I said to Hollywood tonight. Go ahead and
spoil this ending for us, Jesus. You still have us in the palm of your hand, after all. From the top of Mount Tabor remind us we can see
the empty tomb. And in these valleys we trod, gather us again and feed us. Make
our faces shine. Tell us, Jesus, that you will wear that white robe again, and
then it will be worn forever. And on that day it won’t just be your robe,
Jesus. It will be ours, too, for you will clothe us in it, too, because you
love us. All that blood and violence and shame that we know now so well will be
washed away. On that day we’ll build a few tents, or something like it, and you
will let us stay there in your holy presence forever.
On second thought, there’s no
spoiling the plot at all. Rather you’ve saving
the plot, Jesus…just like you save and transfigure us all.
Thanks be to God!
The Reverend Phillip W. Martin, Jr.
No comments:
Post a Comment