Jesus Stays When the Glory Fades
Matthew 17:1-9
Transfiguration Sunday – March 6, 2011
Matthew 17:1-9
Transfiguration Sunday – March 6, 2011
Did you know there's an awards “season”? I'm kind of amused by that, that there's a whole season dedicated to the giving of film awards. But there is – and last Sunday night was the pinnacle of the award season – the Oscars. Now I have to admit that since I don't get to the movies much, I'm not much of one for watching any of the awards shows, but even I know that the Academy Awards are hyped as much for what happens on the red carpet as for who will end up with Oscars in their hands come the end of the night. We love to see the stars come out, all glamorous – dressed to the nines in famous designer wear, hair perfectly done, borrowed jewelry all sparkling. The morning after the show, the talk on TV and the radio is all about who wore what, who was the most beautiful, who was the most outrageous. We like to see celebrities on this biggest of nights, shining in all their glory.
And it seems to me that Transfiguration Sunday is kind of like Jesus' red carpet moment. There's no paparazzi with flashbulbs flashing, no crowds to ooh & aah over him. Just Peter and James and John – they have the super VIP passes that get them backstage with Jesus, high up on the mountain by themselves. But once they've reached the summit, all of a sudden, Jesus is transfigured. His face shines like the sun; his clothes become dazzling white. Jesus suddenly looks like the most glamorous of celebrities on awards night. “Who are you wearing, Jesus?” Well, this is God's design, God-glamor all the way, sparkling and glowing for all he's worth.
And Peter, James, and John – well, they seem to be a little star-struck, don't they? They see Jesus in all of his heavenly, godly glory, the glory he chose to leave behind when he came to earth, talking with two other rock-stars of the Jewish faith, Moses & Elijah, and they're overcome. They don't know what to do, what to think, what to say. They are amazed and filled with awe, wanting to remain there, to capture this moment – until they hear God's voice speaking from a bright cloud: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him.” This knocks them to the ground in fear, but it only enhances Jesus' celebrity status. He is the king of the night – no star can take higher honors than Jesus at this award show.
But as is often the case where celebrities are involved, there's a disconnect for many of us. This whole transfiguration thing just seems to make Jesus seem far away and high above us mere mortals. Most of us have not had this type of experience of Jesus very often – of seeing him in his glory, face shining, clothes dazzling. Mountaintop experiences like this one – where we know we have been in the very presence of God are rare. And try as we might, they're not something we can manufacture. We can't make them happen. In fact, our experiences of Jesus showing up in any way, glorious or not, may seem limited to us, especially when we expect to see him like this, the way that Peter, James, & John got to. When we think that our experiences of Jesus are supposed to be the powerful, knock-you-to-the-ground-with-awe kind, when we go looking for transcendent moments where we encounter Jesus with his halo glowing full-steam, we may wonder if we have ever really experienced him in our lives at all.
So what do we do with that, when we go looking for Jesus and maybe feel like we haven't found him, or wish that he'd show up in some flashier, undeniable ways?
Well, I was thinking about that, and this metaphor of Jesus being a celebrity. And I remembered that our culture's fascination with celebrities doesn't stop at the red carpet. We're not just interested in them when they're all dolled up and looking like superstars. I found that out this past year as I waited in the doctor's office thumbing through magazines. I couldn't tell you what it was, but there was some magazine that always had a section of famous people out and about in their “real” lives. The section was called something like, “Celebrities are just like us, “ and they'd have pictures, of actresses mostly, dressed in sweatpants and sunglasses, going out for coffee, carting their kids around, picking up the dry-cleaning. You probably wouldn't even recognize them or pick them out of the crowd if the magazine wasn't there to point them out to you. When they're not all dressed up, they look just like the rest of us regular folk, doing regular things that everyone has to do.
Peter, James, and John learn that about Jesus too. This moment on this mountain is not the pinnacle for Jesus or for his disciples. It's not the most important part of the story. When the bright cloud of God's presence disappears and the glow of Jesus' glory fades, Peter, James, and John look up – and there they see nothing but Jesus himself alone. Just regular old Jesus – Jesus in sweatpants and sunglasses. The same Jesus who called them from their work as fishermen, the one who taught them & the crowd some deep truths of life in God's kingdom in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus who is undeniably different from the rest of us, yet gave up that glory to walk with them in the everyday ordinariness of their lives. Because even when the glory fades, Jesus stays. And when the road ahead gets rough, which Jesus has just told them it will (that's what was going on 6 days before this scene – Jesus has let them know that he'll undergo great suffering and die) – when his glory is hidden by dust and dirt and pain and suffering, Jesus, this everyday Jesus, will stand by them, reaching out to the hurt and the hopeless, the last and the lost, and teaching them to do the same.
That's the thing about Jesus. When he's not shining in all of his glory, we wouldn't necessarily recognize him. We might not pick him out of a crowd if we aren't looking for him. But that doesn't mean he isn't there! Jesus is far from ordinary, but he blends right in with all the rest of us ordinary people. The witness of this gospel is that even when his glory fades, Jesus stays. He's with us not just in those transcendent, “aha!” moments when his presence is undeniable, amazing, and clear. Jesus is with us even in our “oh no!” moments & in all of our in-between moments – the ordinary, boring stuff that makes up so much of our lives. He's with us as we brush our teeth and take out the trash, on the daily commute and when we're helping the kids with their homework, doing the dishes, vacuuming the living room. In all of those moments, Jesus, God's only son, the Beloved – he's there to be found, just as much as up on the mountaintop. You may not see him shining like the sun – but look around you. You never know where you'll see him next.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
And it seems to me that Transfiguration Sunday is kind of like Jesus' red carpet moment. There's no paparazzi with flashbulbs flashing, no crowds to ooh & aah over him. Just Peter and James and John – they have the super VIP passes that get them backstage with Jesus, high up on the mountain by themselves. But once they've reached the summit, all of a sudden, Jesus is transfigured. His face shines like the sun; his clothes become dazzling white. Jesus suddenly looks like the most glamorous of celebrities on awards night. “Who are you wearing, Jesus?” Well, this is God's design, God-glamor all the way, sparkling and glowing for all he's worth.
And Peter, James, and John – well, they seem to be a little star-struck, don't they? They see Jesus in all of his heavenly, godly glory, the glory he chose to leave behind when he came to earth, talking with two other rock-stars of the Jewish faith, Moses & Elijah, and they're overcome. They don't know what to do, what to think, what to say. They are amazed and filled with awe, wanting to remain there, to capture this moment – until they hear God's voice speaking from a bright cloud: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him.” This knocks them to the ground in fear, but it only enhances Jesus' celebrity status. He is the king of the night – no star can take higher honors than Jesus at this award show.
But as is often the case where celebrities are involved, there's a disconnect for many of us. This whole transfiguration thing just seems to make Jesus seem far away and high above us mere mortals. Most of us have not had this type of experience of Jesus very often – of seeing him in his glory, face shining, clothes dazzling. Mountaintop experiences like this one – where we know we have been in the very presence of God are rare. And try as we might, they're not something we can manufacture. We can't make them happen. In fact, our experiences of Jesus showing up in any way, glorious or not, may seem limited to us, especially when we expect to see him like this, the way that Peter, James, & John got to. When we think that our experiences of Jesus are supposed to be the powerful, knock-you-to-the-ground-with-awe kind, when we go looking for transcendent moments where we encounter Jesus with his halo glowing full-steam, we may wonder if we have ever really experienced him in our lives at all.
So what do we do with that, when we go looking for Jesus and maybe feel like we haven't found him, or wish that he'd show up in some flashier, undeniable ways?
Well, I was thinking about that, and this metaphor of Jesus being a celebrity. And I remembered that our culture's fascination with celebrities doesn't stop at the red carpet. We're not just interested in them when they're all dolled up and looking like superstars. I found that out this past year as I waited in the doctor's office thumbing through magazines. I couldn't tell you what it was, but there was some magazine that always had a section of famous people out and about in their “real” lives. The section was called something like, “Celebrities are just like us, “ and they'd have pictures, of actresses mostly, dressed in sweatpants and sunglasses, going out for coffee, carting their kids around, picking up the dry-cleaning. You probably wouldn't even recognize them or pick them out of the crowd if the magazine wasn't there to point them out to you. When they're not all dressed up, they look just like the rest of us regular folk, doing regular things that everyone has to do.
Peter, James, and John learn that about Jesus too. This moment on this mountain is not the pinnacle for Jesus or for his disciples. It's not the most important part of the story. When the bright cloud of God's presence disappears and the glow of Jesus' glory fades, Peter, James, and John look up – and there they see nothing but Jesus himself alone. Just regular old Jesus – Jesus in sweatpants and sunglasses. The same Jesus who called them from their work as fishermen, the one who taught them & the crowd some deep truths of life in God's kingdom in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus who is undeniably different from the rest of us, yet gave up that glory to walk with them in the everyday ordinariness of their lives. Because even when the glory fades, Jesus stays. And when the road ahead gets rough, which Jesus has just told them it will (that's what was going on 6 days before this scene – Jesus has let them know that he'll undergo great suffering and die) – when his glory is hidden by dust and dirt and pain and suffering, Jesus, this everyday Jesus, will stand by them, reaching out to the hurt and the hopeless, the last and the lost, and teaching them to do the same.
That's the thing about Jesus. When he's not shining in all of his glory, we wouldn't necessarily recognize him. We might not pick him out of a crowd if we aren't looking for him. But that doesn't mean he isn't there! Jesus is far from ordinary, but he blends right in with all the rest of us ordinary people. The witness of this gospel is that even when his glory fades, Jesus stays. He's with us not just in those transcendent, “aha!” moments when his presence is undeniable, amazing, and clear. Jesus is with us even in our “oh no!” moments & in all of our in-between moments – the ordinary, boring stuff that makes up so much of our lives. He's with us as we brush our teeth and take out the trash, on the daily commute and when we're helping the kids with their homework, doing the dishes, vacuuming the living room. In all of those moments, Jesus, God's only son, the Beloved – he's there to be found, just as much as up on the mountaintop. You may not see him shining like the sun – but look around you. You never know where you'll see him next.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
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