ALL SAINTS MARGARET STREET
SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE LENT, 2010
SERMON PREACHED BY THE VICAR AT HIGH MASS
Readings: Exodus 34.29-35; Ps. 99; 2 Corinthians 3.12-4.2; Luke 9.28-36
"This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!"
The Transfiguration is the whole Gospel in miniature. In that single scene, we hear echoes of the baptism of Jesus, , Jesus' fulfilment of the Law and prophets, his predictions of his passion; foreshadowings his death and resurrection, his ascension and future coming in glory.
Luke tells us, with his characteristic emphasis on Jesus as man of prayer, that he went up the mountain to pray. At his baptism, Luke had also shown us Jesus at prayer hearing the voice of God saying : "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well-pleased."
On another mountain, in the midst of the cloud which represents the presence of God, Moses had his transforming encounter with God; saw something of God's glory, so that he was physically transformed by it, and he received the gift of the Law for the people. The light which shines from Jesus is the glory of God which Moses had not been allowed to see fully but which had been sufficient to transform his appearance. Even before a word is said, there is an affirmation of the divinity of Jesus.
Then Moses and Elijah appear. They represent two great strands of the religion of Israel: the Law which had been given to Moses during his mountain top encounter with God; the Prophets represented by Elijah, who also had his experience of God on a mountain and heard the voice of God. Jesus is shown to us as the one in whom this religion finds its fulfilment and meaning. The Law and the Prophets are the essential background to understanding Jesus; that is why the Church goes on reading them. But, as Paul tells us, rather polemically, Jesus is the essential key to understanding them. They remain veiled, unfulfilled without him.
Moses and Elijah speak to Jesus about "his departure, which he was about to accomplish in Jerusalem". The Greek word used is Exodus. It signifies much more than a simple leaving. The Exodus was the liberation of Israel from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the promised land. The "Exodus" of Jesus, his death and resurrection, will be the liberation of all people from our slavery to the false worship of this world to live in that communion with God for which we are made.
The cloud represents both the presence and the mystery of God. It will appear again in Luke's account of the ascension at the beginning of the Acts of the Apostles. After the risen Jesus has spoken to the disciples about the power of the Spirit they will receive for their task of witnessing to him to the ends of the earth, Luke goers on: 'And when he had said this, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold two men stood by them in white robes, and said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven."'
The voice from the cloud underscores the importance of what has been happening throughout the ministry of Jesus. The divine voice affirms Jesus' identity as the Son of God and instructs the disciples to heed Jesus' teaching. If God were to say only one sentence to us, it might well be "This is my Son, my Chosen One; listen to him!"
When I was walking across Spain on my pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela last year, some of the people I encountered were, like me Christians with a clear spiritual understanding of being on pilgrimage. A good many more, however, would come into the category of those who were searching for some kind of spiritual experience. This was expressed in a variety of ways: sometimes in terms of communion with nature, or the companionship of fellow-pilgrims, or the solitude of walking alone and in silence for much of the time.
There was one day, when I had a mountain top experience which casts some light on the Transfiguration. We had set off early in the morning, while it was still dark and misty, to do the second half of the hardest climb of the whole journey; up from the flat Meseta into Galicia for the final stage. As the sun rose, we could look back across the miles of terrain we had traversed in the previous days. That was quite good for morale when leg muscles were aching and lungs protesting at the effort of hauling ourselves up rocky mountain paths more suited to goats. We reached the village at the top and stopped for coffee and to see the memorial to the parish priest who had been the leading mover in restoring of the pilgrimage; the inspirer of the yellow arrows we had been following along the way. The village has had a makeover. It now has some very comfortable "booths" occupied by "pilgrims" who make the ascent the easy way in air-conditioned tourist coaches. Sitting there, surrounded by them, we tried to resist the temptation to spiritual pride. As they boarded their coaches, we heaved our rucksacks on and set off on foot. It had still been misty when we entered the village, but as we left it the sun came out and we were able to look down on valleys filled with cloud brilliantly lit by the morning sun, glistening white.
The Transfiguration is such an extraordinary event that we wonder what it has to do with the likes of us. Most of us do not think of ourselves as given to or given mystical experiences. Yet we are all called apart by Jesus to pray with him. We may not have thought of it that way when we got up this morning, as we came in on the bus or the tube, but deep down that is what is going on as we take our part in Sunday worship. After a week of work, we may be just as weary as the disciples after slogging up that hill. We might find it just as hard to stay awake as they did. But there are times when we glimpse in worship something of the glory of God. There are times when, as we listen to Jesus speaking to us in the reading and preaching of his word, things suddenly become clear. "And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another". There will be times when we wonder if and when any of this is going to happen; just as there were times when I began my long walk when I wondered if I was going to make it.
As we gather here for worship, Sunday by Sunday, day by day even, we pass people who seek for truth and meaning; or simply for some means of coping with the pressures of life. Some of them may be engaged, like the Israelites when Moses' back was turned, in the worship of one golden calf or another: worshipping the gods of consumption. Others will be seeking spiritual meaning. The Transfiguration shows us that the fulfilment of all human spiritual quests is to be found in Jesus Christ. The tragedy is that our churches, with their endless squabbling over gender and sexuality, are probably not the first place most seekers will come looking for that fulfilment.
If we are to be Jesus' witnesses to these representatives of the ends of the earth, then we need to be people who both spend time with Jesus in prayer and who are willing to go down the mountain again to heal the ills of the world represented by the tormented epileptic boy encountered there.
This church building is in the process of being transfigured as we remove the grime of generations. This church community needs a similar process. If we are serious about it, it will not leave unchanged. It is not about constructing a nicer booth in which we can remain as we are. Our transformation may be painfully slow, the degrees of glory too small for us to measure; but it was so for Peter and John and James and for Paul too. Others will recognise it before we do.
We are one the verge of Lent, and as we come to that season of grace, we look to being taken by Jesus to pray with him, to giving closer attention to his voice, to the stripping away of the grime of sin, to the re-ordering of our lives, appetites and habits, that we and others might be "changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another."