February 19, 2012
The Transfiguration of Jesus
Mark 9:2-9
Preacher: Pastor Carrie B. Smith
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Humorist and author David Sedaris is one of my favorite road trip companions. I own several audio books of his essays, read aloud by him, but my all-time favorite is a story called: “Sometimes things happen, and I don’t know what to do with my face.”
Apparently, Sedaris likes to ask unexpected questions of people who come to his book signings. I suppose it could get tedious asking things like “Where are you from?” or “What’s your name?”all day long, so he comes up with unusual, somewhat random things to ask. One time, near the end of a long day of signing books, a woman finally makes it to the front of the line. Sedaris is really stretching to come up with an interesting question at this point in the day. So he blurts out: “When is the last time you…touched a monkey?”
To which the woman sighs and answers, “Oh dear…can you smell it on me?”
“Sometimes things happen, and I don’t know what to do with my face!” writes David. And truly, how does one respond to an exchange like that? With a smile? A reassuring, “Oh no, not at all!”
“Sometimes things happen, and I don’t know what to do with my face.” I couldn’t get this phrase out of my head this week as I studied the story of the Transfiguration of Jesus. Here are Peter, James and John being led up the mountain by Jesus. Maybe he told them this was part of the mission, or maybe he told them it was just a nice afternoon hike. But whatever the reason for the journey up the mountain, when they got to the top, suddenly Jesus was transfigured before them. He was changed from the inside out, right before their eyes! His hiking clothes and sandals were gone, and instead he was outfitted in dazzling white clothes, whiter than any human could make them. And on top of that, out of nowhere, Elijah and Moses, long dead, showed up and started chatting with Jesus!
Now Peter, James, and John were there on the mountain, watching all of this and trying to make sense of it all, when Peter, bless his heart, blurts out: “Lord! THIS. IS. AWESOME. I will…build three houses! One for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah!”
And at this point the Gospel writer feels compelled to comment: “Peter didn’t know what to say, because they were scared to death.” I can almost hear David Sedaris telling this story, and identifying with poor Peter. Indeed, sometimes things happen and we just don’t know what to do with our faces, or what to say! Sometimes, God amazes us, and like Peter, we just don’t know how to respond.
Perhaps this morning, as you listen to the story of the Transfiguration (and maybe even as you listen to this sermon!) you’re also thinking, “Yeah, sometimes, stuff happens in the Bible and I don’t know how to respond!” The story of the Transfiguration seems especially other-worldly and even outlandish to our modern minds. It stretches us, hearing a story like this and trying to make sense of it. But then, maybe making sense of it isn’t the point! Maybe the Transfiguration of Jesus is about mystery, and how we respond to it. Perhaps this is a moment to consider the many ways God surprises and amazes us, leaving us speechless
You’ve come forward to receive communion every Sunday for years, but then there’s one time when no one has to tell you that Jesus is present in the bread and wine, because you just know.
You’ve seen and held many babies in your life, but then one day, you hold your new grandchild. And suddenly the miracle of God’s creation hits you full force, and the words of Psalm 139 come alive: “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.”
And of course you’ve read “The Beatitudes” umpteen times since your Sunday school years, but one day you stop to actually talk to the homeless woman on the corner by Starbucks. And suddenly, “Blessed are the poor” jumps off the page and into real life! Just then, the words of Jesus are transfigured into the person standing before you.
Sometimes, Jesus is transfigured, transformed, and changed before our very eyes—and we don’t know what to do. It happened to me, on the day that Jesus became black.
You see, I always knew Jesus was Swedish. After all, my Grandma Goldie was Swedish, and she seemed to be well-acquainted with him! She also had a painting of Jesus in her living room which removed all doubt. In this picture, Jesus had high cheekbones and a Nordic nose and blue eyes. He looked like most of my relatives. So I knew that even if he was born in Palestine, he must have at least been Swedish-Palestinian.
Jesus remained Swedish until seminary, when I started working at an African-American Lutheran church. On one of my first days there, Pastor Powell showed me a painting in the back of the church—a painting of the Transfiguration, actually—in which Jesus, Peter, James and John all had brown faces. But the painting didn’t always look this way. In fact, it was a new pastor who had changed it many years ago. This pastor, who was from Ghana, took one look at this old Swedish congregation which was now becoming mostly African-American; and then he looked at the painting which featured my familiar Swedish-Palestinian Jesus; and he knew something wasn’t right. He hired an artist to come and transform Jesus, Peter, James and John into black men. The congregation was being transformed into something new, and now this painting would reflect the change.
This was a huge learning moment for me, to see Jesus looking different in a different context. But that wasn’t the day Jesus became black, because at that point I felt Jesus could be black on the South side, and Asian in Chinatown, and could still be Swedish for me and my grandma. It made sense to me that we could paint pictures of Jesus to look just like us—it made sense that Jesus could be all things to all people.
But when you think you’ve made sense of God, or if you have Jesus perfectly figured out, that’s usually a sign God’s about to do something amazing! And then it happened: Jesus really did become black. I was working on a theology paper for class, trying to write about my Christology: in plain language, who I believed Jesus to be. And then it happened: Jesus was transfigured before my very eyes. It happened at the moment when I seriously considered: If Jesus were born today, who would he be? Who would he need to be in the Chicago of today, in order to be disregarded, disrespected, manhandled, maligned and strung up for crucifixion in the same way he was in 1st Century Palestine?
And the shocking answer was: Jesus would be a black man. And probably in prison!
Sometimes things happen, and we don’t know how to respond. When Jesus became black for me, I truly didn’t know what to do with my face—especially with my white face. It was, and is, challenging to think that Jesus wouldn’t have a big house in the suburbs and a master’s degree in divinity. It’s difficult to think that Jesus wouldn’t look like me, or like my grandma. But Jesus was transfigured, right before my eyes—and as a result he continues to transform me and my faith every day.
Scripture says that Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today, and forever. And yet we also know he is both human and divine, both crucified and risen! We proclaim the Good News that Jesus will be with us always, until the end of the age! He shows up again and again in bread and wine, in the waters of baptism, in the fire of the Holy Spirit, and in our neighbor. We are witnesses to the fact that Jesus is always transforming and always showing up where we least expect him. And this can be…disorienting, to say the least. Like Peter, we find our response to be: “Look here, Jesus, I’ll make you a house, so you’ll stay put! Let’s capture this moment, because right now, I know what you look like. Right now, I have a grasp on you, Jesus. If I could just put you in this little house and keep you forever…”
But it doesn’t work like that.
God is amazing! Jesus surprises us. Just when Peter, James and John were used to following him as a great teacher and rabbi, the Son of Man was transfigured and revealed to be the Son of God. Just when the disciples thought Jesus would be the new king, he told them he would soon be arrested and killed. Who could blame them for being tongue-tied? Who could blame Peter for proposing something as ridiculous as a fisherman building three houses on a mountain for Jesus and two dead guys?
But it was at that very moment—at Peter’s “I don’t know what to do with my face” moment, that a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the beloved. Listen to him!”
And a bit later, as Peter, James and John went down the mountain with Jesus, he said to them, “Don’t tell anyone about this. Don’t talk.”
Listen. Don’t talk. In other words: Don’t just do something. Stand there!
I’ll say it again: Don’t just do something, stand there! When Jesus is transformed before your eyes; when you have a mountaintop moment; when God takes your breath and your words away; when you don’t know what to do with your face—the response God requires is not do anything, but just to stand there. You don’t need to build a house, or come up with a flowery prayer, or make promises you can’t keep. Just stand in the presence of mystery. Stand in the glory of Jesus Christ, crucified and risen, and listen for what he has to say to your life.
This week we enter the season of Lent. As much as we talk about it being an inward journey or a season of reflection and self-examination, very often Lent becomes about doing. What are you giving up? How many miles are going to run? How many days this week do you promise to read the Bible?
But today, we hear the voice from heaven saying, “This is my Son, the beloved. Listen to him!”
This Lenten season, don’t just do something: stand there. God invites you to be in the presence of mystery. May Lent be a time of listening and being, rather than saying and doing. Enter deeply into the story of his arrest and crucifixion by attending the Wednesday evening dramas. Listen to Jesus, God’s beloved Son, who transforms us daily with his grace and mercy.
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