Last Sunday after Epiphany

In the coming week: churches around the world will participate in a kind of
transformation.
As the church calendar moves from the season after Epiphany to the season of
Lent.
Our praise-filled shouts of “Alleluia!” will change to lents “Lord have mercy.”
And today:
The lectionary tells us of Jesus’ transformation:
Or: TransFIGURATIONup on the mountaintop.

Throughout Lent:
The lectionary will lead us down the mountain:
Through the valley of the shadow of death,
And ultimately to Jerusalem where the cross and tomb await.

Lent weighs heavily on us.
It urges us to recall the suffering and death of our Lord.
So, in many ways, we arrive at this final Sunday before Lent with a mix of
anticipation and anxiety:
a combination of joy and dread.

It is no accident, then, that every year on this Sunday before Lent:
we hear again the story of Christ’s transfiguration on the mountaintop:
because, at the heart of this story,

we find these all-too-familiar feelings: anticipation diluted by anxiety
and joy thinned by dread.

Luke’s Gospel tells us that Jesus summons Peter, James, and John to the
mountaintop.
And these disciples did not really happily agree to follow Jesus up the mountain.
Just a few verses earlier:
In verses we did not hear today:
Jesus tells the disciples that he must undergo great suffering:
Be rejected, killed, and then rise from the dead.

“If any want to become my followers,” Jesus says, “let them deny themselves and
take up their cross daily 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.”

After hearing these words, Peter, James, and John are not super gleeful going up
the mountain.
Instead, they are forced to come to terms with the horrifying truth that Jesus,
their beloved friend and leader, must suffer and die.

When they reach the top of the mountain, the Gospel tells us that Jesus was
transfigured before them and Moses and Elijah appeared.
As the disciples beheld their Lord, they realized that they were in the very
presence of God.
But even in this incredible moment of divine transfiguration:
Peter could not forget what Jesus had told them before they came to the
mountain.

“Master, it is good for us to be here,” Peter says, “Let us make three dwellings,
one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

It’s almost as if:
Peter believes the by making some dwellings:
And stay on the mountain: he could keep Jesus safe:
Keep him from the scary truth that Jesus told him just eight days earlier.

At some level, most of us can’t help but sympathize with Peter.
Who among us would knowingly submit our self or our loved ones to pain and
suffering?
Peter’s efforts to protect Jesus are acts of love and devotion--
but they are also acts that show Peter’s-- and the disciples’--
need for safety and security.
They had seen a glimpse of God’s glory in the face of Jesus, and they wanted
desperately to hold onto it, to protect it, to keep it forever.

Yet at that very moment:
The moment that Peter tries so desperately to hold onto and protect Jesus:
Is the same moment that a voice from above breaks in saying:
“This is my Son, my chosen; listen to him!”

And notice what happens next:
As the disciples came down from the mountaintop,
they didn’t rush into the closest town and tell the first person they saw about
what they had just witnessed.

Luke’s Gospel tells us that they “told no one any of the things they had seen.”

Although most biblical scholars interpret the disciples’ silence as a mark of fear
over what they had seen and heard--
And that could certainly be true:
We could also look at it in a different way:
What if the disciples silence allowed them to be obedient to God’s command?
God’s command to LISTEN to Jesus?

Peter, James and John heard God say, “This is my Son, my chosen; listen to him!”
So instead of running and telling the world what they had seen on the mountain:
what if they chose instead to obey;
to be silent so they could listen?

In a world busy with noise and chaos:
Where words are constantly shouted or typed:
Stirring up fear and angst:
Maybe this too, is the word from God that we need to hear.
Maybe listening can transform and transfigure us.

Amidst all of the joys and heartbreaks of the world;
in the face of all of the delight and despair that surrounds us;
and despite all of the things we know and can never know,
God beckons us, ever so gently: to Listen.

Imagine for a moment:
what the world might look like if we listened--
not in preparation to respond, but in order to truly understand.

What might our schools look like if we taught our children how to listen:
Truly LISTEN:
as intently and deliberately as we taught them how to speak and to write?
What might our politics look like if we listened more, and argued less?
And what might our churches look like if we listened intently for the voice of God
from those who differ from us?

You probably know where I’m going with this:
And it’s straight to our revival prayer.
We’ve been praying for our own revival:
Our own transformation.
And we’ll continue to pray for it throughout lent.

But today, I’m going to urge us to listen:
To really and truly listen.

As our Lenten journey approaches,
and the chaos of the world presses in with voices of despair clanging in our ears:
may we remember how to listen:
To listen to one another:
And to listen to God especially:

For Guide WILL guide us in our own transfiguration:
Our own revival:
If only we invite the Holy Spirit in:
And listen to what God has to tell us.

Amen.