Mark 9:2-9 

The story of Transfiguration

If you need perspective, climb a mountain. History’s greatest spiritual epiphanies happen at altitude. Moses met God and received the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai. The first revelations of the Quran came to Mohammad at Mount Hira near Mecca. Greek gods lived on Mount Olympus. When Jesus takes his three disciples up a mountain, it is a plotline etched into the human soul. If you want to draw close to God, climb a mountain.

The peaks can open us to spiritual experience. You journey away from human civilization with fewer people, noises, and distractions. The view is wonderful and beautiful, like watching the sunset from Cadillac Mountain near Acadia. Perspective comes from looking down at the world and seeing how small it is. I liked climbing Mt. Tom and looking down at the City of Northampton. It looked like a little village tucked in the trees. My great stone church, with its spire stretching to the high point of the downtown, barely registered as a significant landmark. Busy human civilization was swallowed up by the tree canopy that stretched from horizon to horizon. I felt like my human problems shrank. The soul is more receptive to the divine when the ego is shown its place.

If Peter had a smartphone on the mountain top, he probably would have set it on panorama mode and scanned all around his sightline so he could later show it to Judas and Bartholomew, and all the other shmucks on Instagram.   #SoBlessed. But could the iPhone capture a divine revelation of Elijah and Moses talking with Jesus? Could it do justice to the glowing brightness of Jesus' robe? What setting would best capture this moment? Portrait or Time-Lapse? Time and space lapse? Maybe the iPhone 30 will have a spiritual vision filter, or by then, we will all wear goggles and just see what we want to see. "Alexa, give me a spiritual vision of the Almighty God." 

I speculate that a camera would not capture the Transfiguration, the burning bush, or the angel Gabriel speaking to Mary. These spiritual epiphanies of divine and human encounter are moments more profound than the eye can see. As an analogy, you cannot see when someone falls in love. You might notice the symptoms or a behavior change. You can usually tell when people love each other by their closeness and actions, but you only witness the results of an invisible encounter that creates the mystery of love. No one has seen love, but its power is real and transformative. 

Peter has climbed the mountain with Jesus, finds himself at a threshold, and experiences a moment of seeing Jesus as who he really is. Just six days ago, Peter said, "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God." Now comes the image of what Messiah means. The vision is full of the symbols of past dreams from the Old Testament. There is Moses, the chief lawgiver, and Elijah, the greatest of the prophets, who spoke with God face to face.  The bright robe is straight from Daniel 9, describing the judge of the nations. The cloud that descends is like the one that covered Mt. Sinai while Moses talked with God. This vision has all the archetypes of an appearance of God, and Peter is likely aware of this. But that does not mean he comprehends what is happening. 

I like preaching about Peter because he is the disciple who shows his thoughts and emotions and dares to open his mouth first. He is often completely off base and becomes an object lesson of humility turning into faith. Peter is not the student who raises his hand and always has the correct answer. He is the one who dares to answer first when everyone else is afraid to speak. Jesus does not choose Peter to be a leader of the disciples because of his orthodoxy, but likely because he is willing to explore and take risks to grow and understand. He is not a "yes man." Who says, "Just tell me how high to jump, Jesus." 

Let's explore Peter's response. In the middle of this numinous moment of divine revelation, Peter says,

"Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us set up three tents: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." ⁶ He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. 

Not knowing what to say doesn't stop Peter from talking. We all know people who go through life like a play-by-play announcer. They narrate everything around them, interpreting things for us as if we can't figure things out. As a radio announcer for college football games, I learned never to have dead air. It is challenging because action only happens one minute out of five in football. You must think of topics or just say, "They are in the huddle, and they are still talking. Now they are coming out, there is a handoff, and everyone is knocked to the ground. Time for a huddle again." 

Peter must talk to know what he is thinking. I'm surprised he wasn't narrating communion to Bartholomew at the Last Supper. "See, Jesus broke the bread, it's a symbol of the bread of life, like the Lord's Prayer, give us this day our daily bread, and see, he's giving it to us. He's creating a moment, so pay attention. Write it down, "my body broken for you." 

I wonder why people like Peter talk so much. It can be a way of controlling the situation. The first one to talk shapes the narrative and sets the tone. If you can hold the floor and suck up all the time, your view will prevail. Have you ever been in a conversation that felt like a Senate filibuster, where someone talks so that nothing can happen?

Peter can't take even a moment to pause in the awe of a transcendent moment of epiphany. He wants to shape what he doesn't yet understand. He says it is good to be here, yet he doesn't know why. It is like taking a selfie in front of a Botticelli rather than pondering the birth of Venus. I don't understand why he wants to put up three tents. Does he think Moses and Elijah are going to stick around? Maybe they need takeout, too, a couple more falafels. Perhaps he is trying to be a decisive leader or prove competent, the go-to guy. Moses, those tablets look heavy; let me carry one. 

The text notes that he didn't know what to say because they were terrified. We often think that if God appears to us, we will suddenly be flooded by inner peace. Indeed, many spiritual experiences are full of wonder where we lose ourselves in love and beauty. We might call this a unitive spiritual experience. But so often, the presence of God causes fear and trembling. Moses is disoriented at the burning bush. Isaiah is petrified at the throne of God. In Luke's Gospel (5:8), Peter's response to the call of Jesus was to say, "Go away from me, for I am a sinful man."

Why would fear be the first response to a holy moment? Would you be afraid if Moses and Elijah showed up while you were walking the dog? I resisted the call to ministry for at least seven years. When I felt the call in high school, I tried to do everything else but go to seminary. Even when I went to seminary, I wanted to be a scholar, not a pastor. I was afraid. I didn't have enough experience to know everything that should have caused fear. I was just scared of the responsibility; people might criticize me. After all, look at what people did to Jesus. It took me a few years to process, pray, and prepare to accept the call. 

I am intrigued by the ending of this story because Peter doesn't get called out. A cloud descends on the mountain and overshadows everything. Peter is overshadowed. Think of the experience of flying above the clouds, but you must descend through the clouds to get to your destination. You can't see anything out the window. You don't know how close the ground is or if another plane is approaching. You can only wait and trust that you will find your way, but you don't have control in the cloud.

One of the most important spiritual classics from the 14^th century is the book, "The Cloud of Unknowing." The premise of the book is that God is beyond all rational thought. God's true nature is incomprehensible to us. Therefore, the spiritual path requires us to let go to suspend all our judgments, dogma, brilliant thoughts, inadequacies, and fear. It is like entering a cloud and not being able to see. We must stay there and wait until God draws near. The voice comes to Peter and us in the cloud, "This is my beloved. Listen to him." The voice doesn't say conquer in my name or save the world for Jesus, but listen to the beloved.



Wednesday, Lent begins, and we are called into the cloud of unknowing. As Psalm 46 says, it is a time to "Be still and know that I am God."