Fall is in the air. At least for now, it won’t last. This is Indiana after all. We’ve still got dog days to go. Hot, humid, surprisingly summer into the months we usually consider fall. At least I think we will, who knows really? Maybe not. Maybe fall is upon us. An endless stream of cool days and chilly nights as the season turns toward winter. Just nice and gentle and autumnal. Easy peasy, lemon-squeazy. Yeah, right. The remnants of Harvey are on their way toward us, even as Irma builds in the Atlantic ready to hit landfall again. Hopefully in a different place than the battered Gulf coast of Texas. We can wish all we want for consistently cool and calm climatic experience, but it isn’t going to happen. What’s the phrase? The only constant is change.
Change. It is the way of things. For good or for ill, change is all around us, it is the air we breathe and the water we drink. Turn around and everything is different. We can say we hate change, but it is part of our reality. Change happens to all of us. We are constantly in the process of shedding the old self and putting on the new. And this is a physical reality as much as a spiritual one. We shed our cells at an amazing rate and they are replaced with new ones. Every minute about 300 million cells are replaced in your body. You are in a constant state of change. Do I seem different? Wait a minute, and you will be.
Our Gospel lesson is about change this week. But not what you would normally expect. This isn’t a call to change for the better, it isn’t a turn around or repent passage. It is about a different kind of change all together. Take a look:
Luke 9:28-43a Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. 29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. 30 Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31 They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. 32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. 33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"-- not knowing what he said. 34 While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. 35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" 36 When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.
37 On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. 38 Just then a man from the crowd shouted, "Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. 39 Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. 40 I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not." 41 Jesus answered, "You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here." 42 While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. 43 And all were astounded at the greatness of God.
The appearance of His face changed. The appearance. He didn’t look like what they were used to looking at. He looked different. He looked ... more. Transfigured is the word that we have become used to reading here. That sounds more holy somehow, more theological than to say simply that he changed. But the Greek word here is μετεμορφώθη (metamorphothe) from which we get metamorphosis. Or change.
So what happened on that mountain six days after a conversation about suffering and death? Something. Hard to say, except by repeating the words that we read there. The appearance of His face changed. What they were used to seeing they no longer saw and something they hadn’t seen before suddenly became evident to their frightened eyes. And what did they see? Something well nigh indescribable. Luckily, there were aids to their seeing all around them to help them define what it was that had happened in front of them.
First of all there were those other guys. Luke says it was Moses and Elijah. I always wondered how they knew who it was. Did they come with name tags? Where there prompters running around with signs? Or was it one of those “they just knew” kind of things? Maybe Moses had his famous staff - the staff by which he parted the sea and then struck the rock to get water. Maybe Elijah had his wilderness clothes on, a John the Baptist motif that showed he was a man of the desert, a man uneasy with so-called human civilization. Maybe it was a wild look in his eyes. Maybe Jesus called them by name when they appeared. We don’t know, because not a lot of attention is paid to the two of them. They were there as props, they were scenery for the lead actor, they were in supporting roles on this day. It wasn’t about them. They represented the law and the prophets, the story of the people of God, the heights of the Chosen People. But they were there to draw attention to the one who was the Word of God, who was the Presence of God, Emmanuel, God-with-us.
Luke is the only one who spoke of the conversation among the glowing figures on the mountain top. They appeared in glory too, did you notice that? It wasn’t just Him, they glowed too. But it was the conversation that drew Luke’s attention. They were there to talk about His departure. Checking His ticket, reminding him of the security details, perhaps, no liquids, take all the metals out of Your pockets, take off Your shoes - Moses said that I would think. He knew about taking off shoes. No, maybe it was something else. Something more. Departure in Greek here is ἔξοδον“- exodus”. Moses knew about exoduses. Exodi? He knew what it was to change everything you knew and everything you were, even for an uncertain future. He knew how to embrace that change even through your fears.
Which seems to be what this odd little moment on top of the mountain was all about. Embracing the change, trusting in the One who brings us through, more than that, who calls us to change, to become more. To become like Him. At least that was what it seemed like the Voice was saying. The Voice that spoke because Peter got the lines wrong. Peter wanted to stand against change. “Let’s set up camp here,” Peter said. “Let’s just sit, let’s just be, let’s dig in our heels and hold on to this moment because who knows what the next one will bring. Let us make a declaration that our understanding should never change. We’ve come this far, aren’t we there yet?” No, the Voice says, you’ve got a ways to go yet. You are still becoming. Becoming what, we ask? Becoming Him. This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to Him. Pay attention to the change. To the metamorphosis.
In what context do we usually use the word metamorphosis? I remember science class and we were talking about butterflies. The process of changing from a rather ugly worm-like caterpillar into the fragile but breathtakingly beautiful butterfly is metamorphosis - change. Or maybe it was in earth science and we are talking about metamorphic rock. Melted by the heat of the earth’s core the rock flows from one form into another. But here’s the question, which is the true form of the rock or the creature? Or is the before and the after both a part of the whole? Is it a matter of perspective and a matter of timing? Where you are and when you are allows you to see one truth as opposed to another.
What happened on that mountain was not so much a change into something different, but a revealing of the essence of the One who was changed. Jesus became who He was on that mountain, even though He was who He was as He climbed up and then down again. He is always who He is, He is always present in the fullness of His being. We can only see a part of Him, the part we need at any given moment. We only experience a piece, a dimension of the reality that is the Christ. And we get used to that, it becomes familiar to us.
But every now and then we catch a glimpse of something larger, something deeper and more profound. Every now and then we hear a word that reverberates in our soul for weeks if not a lifetime. Every now and then a tear comes to our eye as we stand on the precipice of glory. Every now and then a lump comes to our throat as we encounter the depths of love and sacrifice. Every now and then we climb a mountain and see what it is that we are following in what is most often the darkness of this life. Every now and then we move a little closer, grow a little taller, move a little closer and listen a little better. Every now and then we catch a glimpse of the appearance of His face.
Shalom,
Derek
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