10/6/17
I spent the academic year of 2010-11 at General Theological Seminary, the Episcopal seminary in New York City, getting a Certificate in Anglican Studies (it was one of the requirements for my ordination to the priesthood.) While I was there, one day at lunch in the dining hall, I happened to be sitting next to someone I didn’t know, and we started a conversation. He was a man who looked to be in his early thirties; he told me he was on track to be ordained, like me, and I asked him what his life had been before this. He said he’d been in the Army, and had recently returned from a tour of duty in Afghanistan. I asked him what that had been like for him, and he said, It was the best experience of my life.
That response was not in the ballpark of what I was expecting, and I asked him why, what made it so. He said that at the very beginning of his time there, he became friends with an officer who had been in Afghanistan for a while, and who was also an Episcopalian; and they had decided to meet regularly, and share experiences, and talk about their lives as Christians, and pray together. And he said that one of the first times they met, this officer (whose name happened to be Captain Parish) told him, For as long as you’re here, you have to be prepared, every day, that this might be the last day of your life.
What this meant, my new friend told me, was not that he was supposed to hurry up and cram in everything he could while he could because he didn’t know when he was going to be cashing in his chips. What it meant was that this life – his life – was a gift, to him, from God; his body was a gift from God, the creation that he lived in and was part of was a gift from God. And therefore, because of that gift, he had a toe in the life of God. This life that we live, from when we’re born until we die – this life that we experience, through our five senses – is surrounded by an infinitely larger life; is part of that infinitely larger life: and this is one way of describing what we Christians call eternal life. This is the big picture, that we live in.
And he said that, in Afghanistan, he learned that, to the extent he could keep all that in mind – this big picture, this life of God that we are all part of - it kept him aware, every day, of the infinite value of every day, and the infinite value of every person he came into contact with during that day, everyone: to whom God had given this same gift. And that led him to understand how much he’d been taking life for granted, all his life; and to realize that, in so much of his life, he’d been just going through the motions. And this, he said, was what made his time in Afghanistan the best experience of his life. Because the realization of all this had never left him; would never leave him; and his life was infinitely better; changed forever.
This all came to mind because today, August 6, is the feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord Jesus Christ. This is one of those feasts in our church year which is assigned a specific calendar date (like Epiphany on January 6 and All Saints on November 1), there are readings assigned for these feasts, and if those dates don’t happen to fall on a Sunday, we celebrate them, and hear those readings, on the nearest Sunday. That’s because on these particular feast days, above others, our church wants us to pay special attention to them, to what they’re about, they have special importance to us Christians.
The Transfiguration (which we heard described in the version from Luke’s gospel) is the appearance of the Lord Jesus Christ in glory – that is, in exalted state, as one of the Trinity – in his earthly life. This glory is visible (Luke tells us that the appearance of Jesus’ face changed – we don’t know how - and that his clothes became “dazzling white”); this glory is witnessed in the Jewish Law (in the presence of Moses), and in the Prophets (in the presence of Elijah.) So the Transfiguration is the culmination of a process, something we’ve been moving toward: the Messiahship of Christ: that is, Jesus of Nazareth is the One in whom God has chosen to come among us. And we hear this glory- this exaltation - in the proclamation by God of Christ’s Sonship (“This is my Son, my Chosen”), just as we did at Jesus’ baptism.
Now, all this sounds very pat, it’s very formulaic, it’s the kind of thing you hear in church talk, but this is huge stuff, plainly. This is the big picture: the life of God that surrounds our lives, and is in our lives. The Transfiguration is one of the great episodes in the gospels, an incomparable miracle, a unique demonstration of just who Jesus Christ is. But in all the majesty of the glory of Jesus Christ, there’s something we shouldn’t miss: it’s also a demonstration of who we are - who we really are, you and me. There’s a reason Peter and John and James are there, in this story. We are, all of us, surrounded by the eternal life of God, and we live – right now - in the midst of it. And as we carry that awareness within us, we can feel the true value, the infinite richness, of it all. And maybe we’ll take less of it for granted; and spend less time going through the motions.
In the providential way these things happen, this sermon (the connection between the Transfiguration and the story of the man I met at General) had been germinating in my mind since the beginning of last week, but just two days ago – Friday – I saw a Facebook post of an article, by a priest, in The Christian Century that had directly to do with what I’d been thinking about. Sermons about the Transfiguration often focus on Peter; and when they do, it’s always to cast him as the fall guy: the doofus who always makes the wrong move, who consistently shows he just doesn’t get it, in so many gospel stories. In this story, after Peter and John and James see Jesus transfigured, see him with Moses and Elijah, it’s Peter who says, Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. He’s trying to act like he’s in control, on top of the situation; and, of course, that’s impossible: how could anyone be on top of the Transfiguration? As soon as Peter finishes speaking Luke tells us he doesn’t know what he’s saying.
So this is the Transfiguration sermon about Peter: that he’s the prime example of the way we’re all of us always getting it wrong, that he sets the bar low for the rest of us; and his life is a demonstration of God’s forgiveness. It’s a valid sermon; I have preached it.
But in the article in the Christian Century, the author sees that, in fact, at the Transfiguration, Peter gets something right: something that’s much bigger than anything he gets wrong. Let us remember that Peter’s the one who, when Jesus asks the disciples, Who do you say that I am, it is Peter who says immediately, You are the Christ, the Holy One of God. At the Transfiguration, Peter sees the big picture: that his friend, Jesus, is Jesus Christ in his glory, in his exaltation: he sees the life of God in this life, right in front of him. And however he fumbles as he lives that out, that knowledge is there for him. And that makes him the rock on which Christ can build his church.
In today’s reading from the second letter of Peter, the author speaks specifically of the Transfiguration;, and tells us, “So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in our hearts.” Let us be attentive to this; and the day will dawn, and the morning star will rise in our hearts. Thanks be to God.
I spent the academic year of 2010-11 at General Theological Seminary, the Episcopal seminary in New York City, getting a Certificate in Anglican Studies (it was one of the requirements for my ordination to the priesthood.) While I was there, one day at lunch in the dining hall, I happened to be sitting next to someone I didn’t know, and we started a conversation. He was a man who looked to be in his early thirties; he told me he was on track to be ordained, like me, and I asked him what his life had been before this. He said he’d been in the Army, and had recently returned from a tour of duty in Afghanistan. I asked him what that had been like for him, and he said, It was the best experience of my life.
That response was not in the ballpark of what I was expecting, and I asked him why, what made it so. He said that at the very beginning of his time there, he became friends with an officer who had been in Afghanistan for a while, and who was also an Episcopalian; and they had decided to meet regularly, and share experiences, and talk about their lives as Christians, and pray together. And he said that one of the first times they met, this officer (whose name happened to be Captain Parish) told him, For as long as you’re here, you have to be prepared, every day, that this might be the last day of your life.
What this meant, my new friend told me, was not that he was supposed to hurry up and cram in everything he could while he could because he didn’t know when he was going to be cashing in his chips. What it meant was that this life – his life – was a gift, to him, from God; his body was a gift from God, the creation that he lived in and was part of was a gift from God. And therefore, because of that gift, he had a toe in the life of God. This life that we live, from when we’re born until we die – this life that we experience, through our five senses – is surrounded by an infinitely larger life; is part of that infinitely larger life: and this is one way of describing what we Christians call eternal life. This is the big picture, that we live in.
And he said that, in Afghanistan, he learned that, to the extent he could keep all that in mind – this big picture, this life of God that we are all part of - it kept him aware, every day, of the infinite value of every day, and the infinite value of every person he came into contact with during that day, everyone: to whom God had given this same gift. And that led him to understand how much he’d been taking life for granted, all his life; and to realize that, in so much of his life, he’d been just going through the motions. And this, he said, was what made his time in Afghanistan the best experience of his life. Because the realization of all this had never left him; would never leave him; and his life was infinitely better; changed forever.
This all came to mind because today, August 6, is the feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord Jesus Christ. This is one of those feasts in our church year which is assigned a specific calendar date (like Epiphany on January 6 and All Saints on November 1), there are readings assigned for these feasts, and if those dates don’t happen to fall on a Sunday, we celebrate them, and hear those readings, on the nearest Sunday. That’s because on these particular feast days, above others, our church wants us to pay special attention to them, to what they’re about, they have special importance to us Christians.
The Transfiguration (which we heard described in the version from Luke’s gospel) is the appearance of the Lord Jesus Christ in glory – that is, in exalted state, as one of the Trinity – in his earthly life. This glory is visible (Luke tells us that the appearance of Jesus’ face changed – we don’t know how - and that his clothes became “dazzling white”); this glory is witnessed in the Jewish Law (in the presence of Moses), and in the Prophets (in the presence of Elijah.) So the Transfiguration is the culmination of a process, something we’ve been moving toward: the Messiahship of Christ: that is, Jesus of Nazareth is the One in whom God has chosen to come among us. And we hear this glory- this exaltation - in the proclamation by God of Christ’s Sonship (“This is my Son, my Chosen”), just as we did at Jesus’ baptism.
Now, all this sounds very pat, it’s very formulaic, it’s the kind of thing you hear in church talk, but this is huge stuff, plainly. This is the big picture: the life of God that surrounds our lives, and is in our lives. The Transfiguration is one of the great episodes in the gospels, an incomparable miracle, a unique demonstration of just who Jesus Christ is. But in all the majesty of the glory of Jesus Christ, there’s something we shouldn’t miss: it’s also a demonstration of who we are - who we really are, you and me. There’s a reason Peter and John and James are there, in this story. We are, all of us, surrounded by the eternal life of God, and we live – right now - in the midst of it. And as we carry that awareness within us, we can feel the true value, the infinite richness, of it all. And maybe we’ll take less of it for granted; and spend less time going through the motions.
In the providential way these things happen, this sermon (the connection between the Transfiguration and the story of the man I met at General) had been germinating in my mind since the beginning of last week, but just two days ago – Friday – I saw a Facebook post of an article, by a priest, in The Christian Century that had directly to do with what I’d been thinking about. Sermons about the Transfiguration often focus on Peter; and when they do, it’s always to cast him as the fall guy: the doofus who always makes the wrong move, who consistently shows he just doesn’t get it, in so many gospel stories. In this story, after Peter and John and James see Jesus transfigured, see him with Moses and Elijah, it’s Peter who says, Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. He’s trying to act like he’s in control, on top of the situation; and, of course, that’s impossible: how could anyone be on top of the Transfiguration? As soon as Peter finishes speaking Luke tells us he doesn’t know what he’s saying.
So this is the Transfiguration sermon about Peter: that he’s the prime example of the way we’re all of us always getting it wrong, that he sets the bar low for the rest of us; and his life is a demonstration of God’s forgiveness. It’s a valid sermon; I have preached it.
But in the article in the Christian Century, the author sees that, in fact, at the Transfiguration, Peter gets something right: something that’s much bigger than anything he gets wrong. Let us remember that Peter’s the one who, when Jesus asks the disciples, Who do you say that I am, it is Peter who says immediately, You are the Christ, the Holy One of God. At the Transfiguration, Peter sees the big picture: that his friend, Jesus, is Jesus Christ in his glory, in his exaltation: he sees the life of God in this life, right in front of him. And however he fumbles as he lives that out, that knowledge is there for him. And that makes him the rock on which Christ can build his church.
In today’s reading from the second letter of Peter, the author speaks specifically of the Transfiguration;, and tells us, “So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in our hearts.” Let us be attentive to this; and the day will dawn, and the morning star will rise in our hearts. Thanks be to God.
