The Church of the Redeemer

March 2, 2003

Transfiguration Sunday 

            In the opening act of the Sound of Music, the nun’s in the course of their discussion on Maria, ask the question, “how do you catch a cloud and pin it down?” I believe we spend much of our lives trying to figure out how to pin the clouds of life down, because we as human beings fear the uncertainty of chaos, and enjoy the security of an ordered world. If we can pin something down by defining it, or naming it, we can gain control over it, or at the very least gain a sense of orderliness to it.  Now this varies by degree from person to person.  There are those that we swear thrive on chaos, but no matter how disorganized one may seem to be, the truth is, we depend on a foundation of unwavering expectations in order to navigate our world.  When this foundation is shaken, we often find our emotions inundated with fear and anger.  Take a moment and think about the last time you felt your world was shaken.  When your life of security and contentment was suddenly ripped away from you and you were plunged into the abyss of chaos not knowing what rope was safe to grab.  For some of us that time was last felt with the death of a loved one, or when we learned the health we took for granted was being challenged by disease.  And we can all still recall our feelings of anger and fear that were created by the terrorists of September 11^th 2001 when our sense of national invincibility was suddenly shattered by such horrific acts of evil.   Or, how about the fear and uncertainty we all feel today as we stand precariously on a tight rope between peace and war with Iraq; not knowing when we awake each morning if are awaking to a world that is at peace, or to a world that is embroiled in war. No matter what our political viewpoint maybe, nobody wants to go to war, and yet we are being helplessly dragged into it.  Now that is a cloud, the cloud of terrorism and war, that I would like to be able to catch and pin down, so I can return to the world I once knew and was contented with.   Or better yet, I would like to build a shelter that will preserve the world I once understood. A shelter that will also protect me from the storms of life that are ahead. 

            These were the feelings of Peter and James on that glorious day when they witnessed the transfiguration of Jesus.  Like all mountain top experiences, it was mind-blowing, exhilarating and in sync with what had been happening in their work with him.  Just six days prior, it was clear that the message Jesus had come to proclaim was being heard.  Over five thousand had appeared to hear what is now known as the Sermon on the Mount, and they had just witnessed what was perhaps Jesus’ most dramatic miracle of all, the feeding of the same five thousand with two fish and five loaves of bread.  And now, atop this mountain, life got even better, they saw with their own eyes, and now knew without a doubt, that Jesus was and is the Messiah. This event affirmed the declaration Peter made before Jesus a few days earlier.  So for Peter and James, the experience of the Transfiguration was overwhelmingly glorious, and they wanted to bask in it for quite awhile.  Is it any wonder then that Peter wanted to build shelters so they could stay on the mountain and live in that moment forever?   

            Our interpretation of Peters question could stop here, but the shelter or booths that Peter was asking to build have even greater significance towards understanding Peter’s thought process.  What Peter actually suggested building in Hebrew is called a sukkah.  A sukkah is small leafy shelter still built by some Jewish people during the Feast of Booths, a celebration that takes place ten days after Rosh Hashanah to celebrate the completion of the harvest.  During this eight-day Festival the Jews reflect on their dependence on God and thank God for a bountiful harvest.

            Peter’s suggestion then, was more than just a request to bask in the moment, but also a statement. He wanted to declare this the completion of Jesus’ ministry.  What our small section of this morning’s Gospel fails to include is why Peter would have been reluctant to descend the mountain.  As I mentioned, six days earlier, Peter declared Jesus the Messiah, the anointed one, but after that, Jesus told his disciples of his impending crucifixion. Peter did not want to accept what Jesus was telling him and tried to argue against it, but Jesus rebuked him.  Now, as Peter and James stood at the top of the mountain, watching the moment of transfiguration fade away as Moses and Elijah disappeared, Peter knew he did not want to go down the mountain and march into an event that he knew would, as our young people say, rock his world. 

            As a parish I know many of us can relate to Peter’s reluctance to descend the mountain.  We just had one of those amazing moments last week as we celebrated every thing this parish has accomplished under the leadership of Dick Downes.  Like Peter, it is natural to want to declare our work finished so we can build sukkahs and continue celebrating the wonderful parish we have become.  A parish that is comfortable. A parish where we know our place and know that we fit in. However, I wonder how many of us, like me, left the building last Sunday feeling twinges of sadness.  Sadness not only because we had to say goodbye to a priest we had grown to love over the past years, but sadness, because we knew as we walked out these doors the winds of change and uncertainty were blowing in. 

             How many of us want to catch the cloud that is the Redeemer and pin it down in order to preserve what it is today?  Unfortunately the very idea we think we want would be most lethal to this congregation. In some ways our desires are the greatest challenge to our faith.  We seek order and consistency, but we believe in a vital and living Christ and as part of the Body of Christ, we too are part of a living and ever changing entity that cannot be boxed in or pinned down. As hard as it may be, we need to allow the Redeemer the freedom to grow and change in order to flourish.  Our parish community needs to descend the mountain, and enter into our own Lent, our own passion of communal self-examination and preparation.  We need to begin preparing for the renewal and resurrection that will be brought by a new Rector when his or her day of arrival comes. 

            Right now the message I bring may not feel like good news, it does not feel comfortable or assuring because change rarely is.  But there is good news within it.  We know that Jesus loved Peter deeply. And, despite Peter’s constant bumbling and refusal to face the crucifixion with Jesus, Jesus never gave up or stopped loving Peter.  Instead, Jesus loved him even more, embraced Peter’s failings, fears and vulnerabilities.  And, it was on Peter, the Rock of vulnerability, the Church has been built. 

            Likewise, God loves this parish.  God understands our sorrows and fears. God knows our current feelings of vulnerability. And God assures us, if we are willing to let go, put our trust in him, and allow ourselves to enter into the darkness of unknowing, the Almighty will journey with us and bring us once again into the light of new life.  Amen.

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