Photo by Thomas Griesbeck on Unsplash
Karen Hollis | February 11, 2024
Transfiguration Sunday
Mark 9:2-9 Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.’ He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!’ Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.
I’ve had a fun time thinking about the mountaintop as a kind of set and setting for the drama of today’s scripture reading to unfold, complete with the three markers that the disciples want to make in response to their experience. You may be wondering – why I brought plants instead of cardboard boxes for dwellings – we’ll get to that. Like with any good drama, let’s explore the text and see where we can find some places of resonance with our own human experience. Let us pray.
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be reflections of your word to us today, in Christ’s name we pray. Amen
Part way through my second year of seminary I found myself in a season confusion. My mind was spinning with new ideas and theology, deconstructed bits of belief systems, so many thoughts and feelings. I contacted Fr. Pat Twohy, a Jesuit Priest I knew through a fellow student, hoping that through his wisdom and beautiful spirit, he could help me sort through the fog within me. When Fr. Twohy greeted me, I shook his hand, looked him in the eye, and before I sat down, I knew every answer to every question I walked in with – it was a quiet and gentle epiphany, like the fog clearing at mid-day. I told him what had happened; we had a good chuckle about it and decided to sit and chat anyway. Being in Fr. Twohy’s presence reminds me of how I think it would be to meet Jesus – perhaps not Jesus in his fullness, but a similar energetic quality. How was it that I could find such clarity simply by stepping into his presence? My guess is that through his own spiritual grounding and connectedness, he opened up for me a thin place where my busyness and confusion could come closer to the light and love of God. Thin place is a Celtic Christian term that refers to a thinning of the veil between the physical and spiritual. In addition to places, they can be people, or experiences. A related term I like to use is mountaintop experience . . . people tend to get that image in this part of the world. Standing on top of a mountain, we feel like we’re in the veil between heaven and earth . . . or inhabiting them both at once. In these experiences God doesn’t suddenly show up, rather we become more open or more aware of what has always been here. Ideally, this is what we try to create on Sunday mornings, a space set apart, where perhaps we can experience the thinning of the veil and the invitation that awaits us there.
In this morning’s story from the author we know as Mark, Jesus takes the three disciples to the mountaintop, to a space set apart. Jesus comes as if with a plan. He had been teaching them about his coming death and resurrection just a week before. Peter of course argues with him, but Jesus challenges him to think about this teaching differently. He tells Peter that he’s going to have to let go of the parts of himself that aren’t in alignment with his current path, he has to die to himself, before he will be able to fully claim the path he’s on. It seems this scene is part 2 of Jesus’ teaching.
Jesus takes them to the mountaintop, away from roles and responsibilities, to a place set apart. With the characters now on set, the scene unfolds with a cascade of symbolism for the reader, beginning with Jesus’ robes – I imagine them dazzling, sparkling white, like sequins in a spotlight. White is meant to convey a strong connection to the holy and the ability to use divine power here on earth. Then Moses and Elijah appear, Moses being the first prophet and giver of the Law, Elijah defended worship of the God of Israel and performed miracles in God’s name. The appearance of these giants of Judaism puts Jesus into context. He is not a guy with nice words and an interesting vision about God’s relationship with us. He belongs among the most important prophets of their faith. Then a cloud appears, which, in Biblical literature, is often symbolic of God’s presence. The words God speaks out of the cloud takes us back to Jesus’ baptism, where God named and claimed Jesus as God’s own . . . this time God is speaking to the disciples, sharing with them that in Jesus, God is uniquely present.
Unpacking symbolism is one thing – living through an experience like this is passage is another entirely. Peter tries to speak on behalf of them and awkwardly suggests that they make 3 dwellings or mounds or something to mark this moment. Thank you, Peter for offering such a human response . . . to an experience that just bursts open one’s understanding of what is possible. They can try to grab at the air, but they can’t make the experience itself concrete. So they want to build something. This idea is completely biblical. Many figures from the Hebrew Bible build mounds or altars after experiencing the divine. I might do something similar, like journaling or knitting or arranging rocks on the beach – doing something to process the experience and make something physical that means the experience was real.
We might ask, what happens then? In our humanness, it’s super tempting to remain on the mountain. Maybe reinforce the mounds, invite people to tour the space, take pictures with our smart phones to put on social media or on our home screen. Continuing to relate to the concrete keeps us connected to the experience, though it’s in a container of relative safety that is different from the experience itself. We live in a time where God and the institutionalized church are commonly thought of as one in the same. The structure and the Sacred become, not just beautifully intertwined, but instead conflated as one.1
I mentioned a few sermons ago that I listen to StarTalk with Neil Degrass Tyson. Sometimes people write in questions about experiences of God or mysticism and Neil always replies by referring to Religious experiences. I tell him each time that there is a difference between religion and spirituality. Spirituality is connection with God, a direct relationship. Religion is the framework with which we make meaning out of that relationship or practice that relationship. He never listens.
What other options are available to us? The disciples don’t actually get to build anything on the mountain. They suddenly look around them and see no one except for Jesus. The experience is over and instead of remaining, they return to the world from which they came. If we read on in this chapter, we will find their conversation on the way down the mountain. The disciples are thinking about what they experienced, and they engage him in conversation. The journey down the mountain can serve as a time to process what just happened. The act of walking itself is so cleansing. Our bodies were made for it. Walking helps thoughts and feelings move through us, making room for epiphanies and insights, meaning making, gratitude. They have a chance to process this experience and ground themselves in what is true, and make room for the epiphany of who Jesus is to become known in them before they return to a world that will try to convince them otherwise.2 Instead of building shelters on the mountain, the experience can make a home in them and live. It can inform their choices and shape their lives.
The mountaintop experience completes the picture of who Jesus is and to what he is inviting them . . . it opens the door for an epiphany that fully aligns them with the path they are walking. It’s the path to which we are also invited as followers of Jesus. It’s a path of healing and reconciliation, a path of Justice and salvation that comes not for one of us, but all of us. It’s a path that continues to invite, no matter where in life we find ourselves.
1 enfleshed, March 3, 2019
2 enfleshed, ibid.