Reflections on the Transfiguration and being present

Rev. Molly F. James

DFMS Noonday Chapel

May 14, 2021

Psalm 92; Ezek. 1:28-3:3; Luke 9:28-36

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

Today we get the Gospel for the Feast of the Transfiguration. It is a familiar story - a feast we celebrate multiple times a year. It is officially in August, but then we always get this story on the last Sunday of the Epiphany.  And here it is in the daily office in May. Clearly this is an important text for us. And whenever I get a familiar text, I am reminded of my seminary professor’s wisdom: “Don’t confuse familiarity with understanding.” 

So, I am trying to look at this text anew, to see what it might be saying to us in this context, in this time. I will admit that I am having a great deal of trouble empathizing with Peter. “Lord, it is good for us to be here . . .” Here? No, Lord, not here. Not here where we are exhausted. Not here where we are tired of spending so much time between the same four walls. Not here where we are pretty sure this is our third or maybe it’s our seventh Zoom call of the day. Not here where we are afraid. Not here where the headlines are too full of violence and heartbreak. Not here where the problems of society seem too much to bear, too much to tackle. Not here, please Lord. 

We want to be over there. Somewhere in the future where we are traveling freely. Worshiping in person. Celebrating the sacraments. Hugging our family and friends. Where we feel safe and filled with joy. 

We have had enough with “here” - with exhaustion and anxiety. 

That is a good reason to keep reading in the passage. And to remember that Peter does not win that argument. They don’t build houses and just stay. They keep going. And there is our comfort. It will not always be like this. Already more things are possible than was true in previous months. Things are opening up. The beauty of the springtime helps us to remember the reality of change and new life. There are signs of hope all around us. 

So we can indeed have hope. We may not be instantly transported to that future where things will be better, but we are moving in that direction. 

As we make this journey from here to there, I hope we can be mindful of two important lessons from our text today. First, a reminder that we do not journey alone. Jesus did not go up that mountain alone. He did not come down it alone. He did not turn toward Jerusalem alone. The disciples were with him. 

We do not travel alone either. Even in those moments when we may feel isolated in our own challenges and struggles, we need not be. We are beloved children of God and there is a community of people who care about us. Who walk with us. Who will gladly drop what they are doing to be a listening ear or whatever we might need. Sometimes though, in order to receive that wonderful care, we need to ask for it. We have to be willing to share our struggles. I find this a challenge sometimes. I seem to have inherited far too much of my Purtian ancestors’ ability to keep a stiff upper lip and an external veneer that says everything is fine, even if it is not. Hopefully you all are better at asking for help and reaching out when you need it. 

Second, our text invites us to be present. Note that the voice from the clouds tells the disciples to Listen to Jesus. It does not say ignore. Go about your business. Nevermind us over here. It tells them to Listen. And that is a good reminder to those of us who might like to hurry things up or are wishing we could magically transport ourselves to another time and place. We can hold on to the knowledge that things will not always be the way they are, so we can trust that change will come. That means that we do not need to fear being present. Being present does not mean we are stuck. It means paying attention. It means being open to the ways that God is showing up in the world and in our lives. It means being on the lookout for the signs of hope, the glimpses of beauty, all that points us to the essential truths at the heart of our faith. That we are beloved. That there is always light. That there is always hope. That Easter is real. That love always has the last word. Always. Amen.