The
late Jim Valvano, basketball coach for the NC State Wolfpack, whose team won
the NCAA Championship in 1983, had a very unique and some would say outrageous
way he’d begin each season of practice. Before they would practice a single
free throw shot, before they would run any passing drills, before they’d even
do laps around the court, Jimmy V would have his players dress out and bring
them out on the court with a ladder. He’d put the ladder underneath the
basketball hoop and then hand them a pair of scissors at which point he would
have the whole team practice cutting down the net. In case you’re not familiar
with college basketball, the act of cutting down the nets from a basketball
hoop is reserved for tournament champions. Only one team gets to do it,
obviously, and it is done right at the end of the final victory. As the
television crews come onto the court and the wild, celebrating fans are
corralled back into their seats for the presentation of the trophy, someone
brings out a ladder and the winning team-members climb up, one-by-one, to cut
the net down. And in the Men’s NCAA Division 1 basketball tournament, which
will begin in a little less than a month, the song they begin playing in the
background is “One Shining Moment.”
Practicing
that championship ritual, that end-of-the-season, final, culminating ceremony is
how Coach Valvano began his season. It’s a bit outrageous, but I suppose he did
that in order to get his players to glimpse the glory that could be theirs before
they descended into the hard work and discipline and day-to-day drudgery of the
season. I suppose he did it to inspire them forward, to give them a vision of
what they could be before the season had a chance to disillusion them.
In
many ways, that is what the Transfiguration of Jesus was for his disciples. This
whole experience is outrageous, if you look at it. Even Jesus refers to it as a
vision once it’s over, as if something about it wasn’t quite real, almost a
figment of their imagination. Whatever it was, it was a glimpse of the final glory
of Jesus, a brief peek, if you will, into One Shining Moment that would be a
precursor, a little foretaste, of the Everlasting Shining Eternity Jesus would
bring at the end of his story.
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| An 11th century icon of Christ's Transfiguration. This is at St. Catherine's Monastery, which sits at the base of Mt. Sinai |
The
fact of the matter is they needed a brief peek, they needed a glimpse of that
glory, for two main reasons. First of all, they don’t really have a clue about
who Jesus is. They’ve never been given the information that Jesus is, for
example, God’s Son. For those of us who have the benefit of reading the gospel
of Matthew, that’s something that’s been more or less clear since the
beginning. We know the story of his birth, and the miraculous, mysterious
events that surrounded it. We have heard about the angel that visited Joseph in
dream that informed him his son would save the people from their sins. We also
know about the events at Jesus’ baptism, how he went down in the water and when
he came up a voice boomed from on high identifying Jesus as God’s Son.
None
of the disciples, you see, were there at those occasions. For them, Jesus is a
rabbi with some very compelling (if not confusing) teachings and an incredibly
insightful understanding of God’s law. For them, Jesus is a teacher and leader
who also has the ability to work some miracles every now and then. There have
been a small handful of vague references to Jesus and God the Father, but no
one has an idea of the depth of that relationship until this One Shining Moment.
Who
is Jesus for you? Hearing the story of Jesus’ transfiguration is an excellent
time to ask ourselves that question. Is he an idea in your head? How do you see
him? What’s his point?
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| Sorry for the blurriness. This was in the days before cell phone cameras. |
I
remember one of the the first times I really grappled with these kinds of
questions and the difference between the Jesus in my head and the Jesus that’s
out there, as a real person I was in Hong Kong for a trip during seminary and
we were at a Chinese Lutheran Church one morning during worship and Sunday
School. Some kind of special faith formation event was going on between the
worship services that morning—much like our Explore Camp Day today—and there
were some materials and pieces of art laid out on a table. And among those
pieces of art was a pair of painted plates. One plate had nothing but Chinese
writing on it, which I couldn’t understand. The other plate, however, was a
picture of a man under a tree surrounded by a bunch of children. One of the
children was even on his lap. And it took me a second to figure out who I was
really looking at because all of the figures were Asian. It was Jesus blessing
a bunch of children, but Jesus had what I would consider—and what I think the
artist would have considered—Asian features. Even the tree they were under
looked like something out of an old Asian piece of art, branches kind of
bending downward like a willow. While my brain understood that Jesus was not
Asian, it made me acknowledge that in my mind’s eye I had always formed Jesus
into a white, Caucasian Jesus. I had essentially imagined Jesus just as a
wiser, more capable version of myself and the people that were around me most
of the time.
In
a way, those plates transfigured Jesus for me. They presented him in a new way
that made me pause and really consider not just what but mainly who it is that I believe has named and
claimed me in faith.
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| "Transfiguration" (Raphael) |
Jesus
can often come across so much of the time as an idea, a concept that can be
mulled over in our heads rather than a person that can be beheld, that can
amaze us. We can so easily reduce Jesus to some kind of moral teacher, or even
just a moral teaching. We go through life and its complex situations thinking
in terms of “What Would Jesus Do?” almost as if that were some kind of
philosophical question. And those kinds of questions and outlooks aren’t
necessarily wrong or bad—because disciples are supposed to imitate their
leader—but neither do they quite offer a complete picture of who Jesus is. On
the mount of Transfiguration the disciples don’t hear, “This is a great wise
teacher. He’s got great ideas. Listen to him!” Or “This guy’s a great example.
Ponder him!” They hear, “This is my Son, the beloved. Listen to him!”
Disciples
of yesterday and disciples of today may begin to follow Jesus with the hopes
that they will just end up as better people. But the reality is that following
Jesus means being given something better. It means being granted new life, a
bright, unending future. It means being given Jesus—being in his presence,
knowing him, sharing life with him—which is reward enough because he is the Son
of God.
So,
one thing this net-cutting event on the mountain does is tell the disciples
more about Jesus’ identity. The other reason God gives those disciples a
glimpse of the future glory is the one we already know. We know it in our
bones, but we try to ignore it, deny it. Peter becomes voice of our denial because
what we know (but have a hard time admitting) is that we have to head back down
the mountain for a while and life is way different down there than on the top. Christian
faith doesn’t call us to an escape from the world. It calls us to a greater
engagement with it, and that is not always fun and games. Just as the Wolfpack
learned from Coach Valvano that the season requires practice, drills, and
sweat, we learn from Jesus that discipleship will involve a cross.
That
is, in fact, what Jesus has just finished telling them when he takes Peter,
James and John up the mountain that day. He has let them know that the Son of
Man will undergo great suffering and be killed, but on the third day be raised
again. It is on that mountain where we will see the nature of God truly revealed
before our eyes, where we come to terms not just with a new kind of ethnic
Jesus or fresh interpretation of his teachings—but that we are following a God
who does not hold himself back from the darkest parts of our journey, a God who
offers all of his life for us to have his. It is a God who is willing to lose
everything, absolutely everything, to climb down into all of our “things” and make
us new.
A faith,
he is telling them, which is built on seeking out transfiguration experiences, linking
them together, one mountaintop experience after another, will ultimately become
problematic. Faith is built on learning to listen to Jesus, the Son of God. And
faith is, most importantly, coming to know that when all fades away—when the
cloud of our glorious vision dissolves when the exhilaration of a fresh new
understanding of God wears off, when reality of whatever life has handed us
hits us in the face—we will not be left alone.
I
said two, but there we hit on a third little thing about this outrageous event.
It involves some irony. Peter, you see, wants to do something so that he and
the others can stay with Jesus. He sees the vision, beholds the glory, and
wants to build some huts in order to remain with that God. But in the end, it
is Jesus who does the staying. All that fades away and Jesus has to touch the
startled disciples and show them that he, alone, is left. He shows them he will
travel with them back down the mountain.
Brothers
and sisters, I hope you come to know that the exciting, mountaintop experiences
you have with God may become like a drug, enticing you to find more, but Jesus
will remain. Your faith may get wobbly—like mine does—but Jesus will remain.
The season before the championship will get rough, filled with disillusionment,
but Jesus will remain. You, me, we all may forget to listen, forget what we’re
heading for from time to time, but Jesus will remain. The valley below may get
dark and dreary, but it won’t end there. Jesus remains. And pulls us through.
He holds us fast and he promises the end will come, the victory will be won, and,
let me tell you, it will not involve just one but a zillion back-to-back shining moments!
Thanks
be to God!
The Reverend Phillip W. Martin, Jr.
The Reverend Phillip W. Martin, Jr.
