Location, Location, Location
Transfiguration Sunday
February 19, 2012
2 Kings 2:1-12
Mark 9:2-9
In the summer of 1997 as I was completing my seminary studies at Duke Divinity School, I traveled with a group of other students, staff and alumni on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land very similar to the one we are planning in November. Part of our excursion took us to the Sinai Peninsula, where we visited Jebel Musa - the Mountain of Moses. There still remains speculation about whether or not the place we visited is actually the historical mountain where God allegedly spoke so often to Moses; but you can imagine the awe and wonder of just being in that place.
We started out early in the wee hours of the morning something like 2 or 3 o’clock on camel-back. Yes, that’s right, your minister rode up the mountain of Moses on camel’s back. But let me assure all of those who will be going on our pilgrimage – we will not be doing that.
After several hours of slow climbing, we dismounted the animals and made the remainder of the trek on foot. It was still dark and there were narrow crevices, all sorts of twists and curves and bends in the road. It is still vivid in my memory, the uncanny quietness we felt as we sat atop the mountain huddled together because of the chill, waiting for the morning sun to rise and looking out for miles and miles, placing ourselves in the context of the stories we have heard and read so often.
For the most part, we remembered the stories of Moses; but they also became our stories. Somehow our creative imaginations allowed us to be present with Moses when he first met God in the burning bush while working on his father-in-law Jethro’s land. You remember that incident, don’t you? As the bush was burning and flame did not go out. God said to Moses, “take off his shoes, for the ground upon which he was standing is holy ground.”[1]
It was difficult to imagine that the land before us could have ever been called “holy” for everything, as far as our eyes could see, was nothing but dry soil with layer upon layer of solid rock, where no plants or crops could grow and water was difficult to find. It hardly looked like holy ground.
And yet we were told that God was there. And we know that God is no stranger to dry places. You and I have most likely found ourselves in desolate places where it looked like no fruitful thing at all could emerge only to discover that there was something beyond what our eyes could see.
And that space, that ground, that location, even our own being became, well, “holy” because God confronted us there, and we gained a new insight, a new truth and anew understanding and before we knew it, life was bursting forth.
In our gospel lesson this morning we are also invited to go up a mountain – a high mountain. Jesus invites us to come along as he takes his closest friends: Peter, James, and John.
They have come away from their daily grind; away from the busy-ness of everyday life to worship, pray and be renewed much like we have. While Jesus is praying, the appearance of his face changes and his clothes became dazzling white – brighter than anyone on earth could bleach, according to Mark.
Peter and the other disciples are amazed and Peter says, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings places; one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”[2]
Peter does not know what he is asking and he responds out of fear; fear of Jesus being taken away. Fear of not being able to hold onto this moment. Fear of this amazing thing that is happening in his midst that he cannot understand nor control.
He is in the company of close friends, his master teacher and the prophets of old and Peter wants things to remain as they are right in this moment: let us build a dwelling place for the three of you.
But what Peter does not understand is that Jesus cannot be contained in a building; in wood and stone and brick. Jesus cannot be held in the kind of dwelling that Peter has in mind. Jesus can only be contained in flesh. In your heart and my heart. The only reason Christ is here this morning is because we are here. This is a holy place because all week long people come and go. Because the business that we transact is to transform lives through the presence of Christ.
In and of itself, this building has no intrinsic value but wherever we are, God is. And wherever God is, that space is holy ground.
Mark tells us that the clouds opened up and voice was heard: “This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him!”
Remember when we heard those words before at the beginning of this season? We began with it at Jesus’ baptism. The heavens open and God declares his Son.
We see it again now at the close of Epiphany; just as we are about to head into the season of Lent. Just as Jesus is about to make his final entrance into Jerusalem: This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him!
Why this mountain top experience, bright lights, dazzling clothes, heroes from the past? Hollywood allows us to have a vivid imagination about what it must have been like.
We know what Peter, James, and John do not know. We know that the Transfiguration is a preview of what is to come. That Jesus will one day be taken up again on another high mountain: a mountain called Golgotha, the mountain of the skull.
We know that this glory that they see is a prediction that underscores the glory of the cross – the final victory over death. But Peter, James, and John do not know that yet. And so they are afraid.
What are your mountaintop experiences? Those places and moments where you see things clearly and are spurred to act and think and live in a new way?
Worship at its best is like going to a holy mountain. We get to do it every week; sometimes multiple times. The music, prayers, words; in baptism; the breaking of bread and sharing the cup; the fellowship of one another – God is all over that. All over it.
But holy ground is not limited within these walls. Holy ground can be in the kitchen, or on a bus or a subway, at work, at one’s desk, walking in the park, beside a hospital bed, or sitting alone waiting for the phone to ring . If God enters the threshold of your awareness, that place is holy ground.
I have begun to look for those moments in my life; to try to pay closer attention. They are all around me - more than I can count. And they are all around you as well.
They are when a friend helps you through a particular situation or you are able to help him. It is when you take the high road when every temptation is to take the lower one. It’s when you are willing to humble yourself; confess a fault; ask for forgiveness. Holy ground is when you let go of a grudge or go the extra mile. It’s when you stand up for truth or simply tell the truth. It’s when you locate yourself in the shoes of the other and work for their good as if it were you own. Holy ground is when you stretch beyond what you think is possible because at the end of the day, it makes it better for everyone else.
Jesus said, “If you want to really be one of mine, you must be willing to deny yourself; take up the cross and follow me.”[3]
We go up to the mountain to be renewed but we come down in the valley to live out our faith.
In church of my childhood, we used to say, "I looked at my hands and my hands looked new. I looked down at my feet and they did too." Why? "Because a change; a wonderful change has come all over me."