Mark 9:2-9
First, I want to welcome the Scouts,
leaders, and parents of Pack and Troop 16 as we celebrate Scout Sunday
today. I know you’re here at the church
every week for meetings, but it’s great to have all of you here today for
worship, too. And thanks especially to
the Scouts serving as lectors, acolytes, and ushers this morning!
So, the Gospel reading on this Scout
Sunday is one that probably seems like it has nothing to do with Scouting and,
frankly, nothing to do with your life. I
want to try to convince you otherwise, so hang with me for a few minutes. It’s the story of the the
Transfiguration. It’s a story of
mystery, a story that I think is supposed
to make us stop short and say, “Wait, what?”
So, if it leaves you a little confused, you’re in good company.
This is a mountaintop story, and we get
lots of those moments in the Bible – Moses climbing Mt. Sinai to receive God’s
law; Elijah seeing and talking with God on the mountain and living to tell the
tale; Jesus wrestling with his demons on the Mount of Olives – even the
crucifixion, which happens on a hill outside Jerusalem. It seems like God’s chosen people are always
climbing, always making their way up the mountain.
That includes us, by the way. But at least for me, those mountaintop
experiences aren’t always clear, even when they stick with you a long time. I had one of those moments on what passes for
a mountain in Missouri. I’d been out of
college just a couple of years; I’d gone camping by myself in the St. Francois
Mountains in south-central Missouri; and I found myself near the second-highest
peak in the state. Now, this is
Missouri, so being the second-highest peak in the state doesn’t mean all that
much, at 1,300 feet. But still – there I
was, at Mudlick Mountain; and I decided to hike up. It was beautiful – the oaks and hickories
towering above; squirrels and deer down below.
I could have driven up, but I wanted to see what I’d see going on foot.
And the effort paid off. At the summit, such as it was, I came out of
the woods into a clearing with a fire tower rising above it. And all over the fire tower, and all over that
clearing, were large birds. I remember
them as eagles, but probably they were buzzards. Whatever they were, when I came out of the
woods, all these huge birds took off together; and it looked and sounded like
the top of the mountain lifted off and flew away. It was stunning, and I even took a few
feathers home with me, to help me remember.
But I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the experience. I mean, I’d taken the trouble to hike up that
little mountain for some reason, right?
What was I looking for? Well, something
of significance, something of value, something that that would make a
difference. I was looking for an
experience of glory.
That’s why we go on campouts or climb
mountains, right? I mean, you could just
stay at a hotel instead. You could just drive
your car up the mountain, pull over, and look off the scenic view. These days, you could just get a drone and fly
it up there, shooting video of “your” experience. So why do we go camping and climb mountains
instead?
I think we do it to see what God will do
with the experience. I think we put
ourselves out there to see what we’ll see and hear what we’ll hear. We put ourselves out there to see how God
might show up.
That’s what Peter, James, and John are
doing in this morning’s Gospel story.
The difference here is that they have Jesus as a guide. He takes them “up a high mountain apart, by
themselves” (Mark 9:2). The story
doesn’t say why they’re taking this hike, but I think they’re looking to see
how God might show up. And God doesn’t
disappoint them, though it’s a little more intense than the disciples would
have wanted. Jesus is “transfigured”
before his friends, his clothes turning dazzling white and his face shining
with the same light that pierced the darkness at the beginning of creation, the
light of the Big Bang, the light of God’s own presence. Then, Moses and Elijah appear out of nowhere,
putting Jesus literally in conversation with the Law and the Prophets of the people
of Israel. In the middle of this fantasy
scene, Peter thinks he needs to say something to make sense of it, so he offers
to build little shrines to worship Jesus and Moses and Elijah. But then comes the One they’ve all been
waiting for, the One they hiked up the mountain to find. A dark cloud descends over the mountaintop,
and the divine voice thunders, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!”
(Mark 9:7).
And just as quickly as it began, the
moment is over. Moses and Elijah vanish,
the cloud lifts, and the hikers are left with Jesus the trail guide looking
normal again, ready to take them back down the mountain.
“Wait,” the disciples are thinking; “what was
it God said? ‘This is my Son; listen to
him’? But Jesus didn’t say anything.” Well, that’s not very helpful. Don’t you just wish sometimes that Jesus
would show up and say exactly what he wants us to hear? Wouldn’t it be great if Jesus just walked
down the aisle and finished this sermon for me?
Not this time? Well, OK. Instead, let’s look at the story just before
this one, where Jesus had something pretty significant to say. It starts with Peter saying Jesus is the
Messiah – God’s anointed king, the one who’s come to kick out the Romans and
establish God’s rule instead. But Jesus tells
him, “Well, that’s not exactly how it works.”
In fact, it’s just the opposite.
He is the anointed king, but
this king doesn’t rule the way we expect.
This king is hiking to Jerusalem, where he’ll climb a mountain with a
cross on his back and come into his glory in the last way we’d imagine – bleeding and dying.
And even worse, Jesus calls us to follow that
path he’s about to take. He says to the disciples,
“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves, and take up
their cross, and follow me. For those
who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my
sake … will save it.” (Mark 8:34-35) The
way this king will defeat the powers that oppress us is by sacrificing
himself. And that sacrifice saves
us. The pains you bear, the losses you
endure, the failures that stick with you, the damage you cause that you’d give
anything to fix … this king takes his cross to the top of the mountain and lets
himself be broken on it to give you the chance to be healed.
How does that work? That hike with the cross leads the way to
resurrection. Jesus takes us to a place
where endings aren’t endings, where death doesn’t stop us. He takes us to a place where love makes us
new and lets us live forever. And, as if
all that isn’t enough, Jesus asks us to join him on that path, and give
ourselves away, and help him heal the
world. Follow me, he says, and let God’s
light shine through you so you can light the way of resurrection for
others.
Here’s the thing: When I hiked up Mudlick Mountain, I was a
young man with a great future, by the world’s standards. I was going somewhere. I was the speechwriter and deputy press
secretary for the governor of Missouri, and the governor liked what I was
doing. I could have been working for him
when he became a senator, even when he became the nation’s attorney general, as
it turned out. But the work didn’t mean
anything to me. I didn’t feel like I was
making a difference. So, I went to
Mudlick Mountain to look for a sign.
I didn’t really hear or see anything
specific from God in that flight of eagles (or buzzards). But what I heard and saw was that God was
there in the majesty of those birds, in the beauty of that peak. I heard and saw God’s possibility. Like those buzzards, even I could take flight
… by leaving behind what I had and by turning away from where I was going. I thought that meant being a teacher, so I left
the governor’s office and went back to college.
I didn’t end up being a teacher, but I met the woman who would be my
wife. And we had kids. And I got this call to be a priest. And here I am, loving and serving you all. It’s not the path I’d ever imagined, and
every step along the way has cost me something – a lot, some of them. But at the end of the day, I’ve found life I
never knew was out there.
Others in the room this morning could tell
a similar story. And you Scouts, you’re
learning this story, too – this story about giving yourself up in service,
about putting the well-being of the den or patrol first, about putting yourself
third behind God and other people. And
you’re learning the mystery Jesus was trying to show his friends up on that
mountain: that success isn’t about achieving power. Success isn’t about scoring highest. Success isn’t about getting the most. Success comes from loving and serving others. Success comes from being God’s light for the
people who join you along your path. Success
comes from the last thing you’d imagine: from giving yourself away.
No comments:
Post a Comment