Everything Will Change (But in the Meantime...)
Mark 9:2-9
Gospel Reading for Transfiguration Sunday (Year B)
One of the helpful aspects of scripture is how it is multifaceted. You can hear a story over and over again and then the 40th time you here it, it hits you a different way. The Transfiguration is a great story that I have heard many times. I have written blogs and monologues and I think even a skit about it. Yet it wasn’t until today that it struck me how this experience was both such an unbelievable blessing and crushing curse for Peter, James, and John. And perhaps there is something in that two-sided coin for those of us who are trying to do this faith thing.
These three disciples got to witness something that no one else in their group got to witness. They saw their teacher transformed before their eyes. They saw his clothes shine brighter than a flame. Moses and Elijah appeared and spoke with Jesus. Finally they heard the voice from the heavens tell them that this man they were following was the Beloved, God’s own Son. It was simultaneously amazing and terrifying; a spiritual experience like no other and a brain-melting “What the sheol is happening?” moment. And they were the only ones who knew. Jesus told them not to tell anyone else until after all was said and done.
On one hand, that is an amazing gift. They got a peak behind the curtain. Even though they didn’t stay on that mountain like Peter wanted, this trio knew there profound divinity coursing through every moment down in the valley. Each healing, each word had deeper resonance. Perhaps when things went sideways for Jesus, that experience on the mountain was a source of hope. A flashpoint of conviction that despite the present horror that everything would change.
Yet on the other hand, that can be a crushing weight especially when things went wrong that final week. When Jesus was arrested, all of his followers were stricken. How much worse would it have been for Peter, James, and John? They saw their teacher with the heroes of their faith and heard the voice of God affirm who he was. And yet here he was being arrested, abused, and scorned. To go from those heights to those depths; to see and trust in the goodness of God and then to experience that utter desolation is more than many of us can bear.
I think about the fact that, if we are lucky enough to have them, that our moments of profound spiritual encounters can be source of great hope and pain. They can be life-giving in the ordinary times and even a source of hope in seasons of difficulty. Yet they can just as easily be pressure points in which we feel the cold absence of something, of Someone who once felt so real. To have some sort of encounter with the Holy is a beautiful, yet very fragile thing. And sometimes it can break us.
My generation of 1990s youth group kids is littered with individuals who had profound spiritual experiences and then later find themselves wondering if those experiences were ever real. Life or other people or the church let them down in a wounding way and then they are unsure of what to do with what they saw on their mountaintop.
It hurts something fierce when you think you have had a profound spiritual experience and then everything gets blown to hell. People will react in different ways. Some will close their eyes tight and turn a blind eye to the wounds. Others will decide that nearness to God was not actually real. Then a lot of us are in the middle holding those moments at arm’s length not wanting to lose the hope, but not wanting to get burned either.
But this is life. As Frederick Buechner wrote: “Here is the world. Beautiful things and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.” I find that last admonition either a inspirationally defiant or woefully naive depending on my mood. Yet this is what faith is. It is a struggle. Yes, it is something that can give us hope in that moment when everything will change and will be right. But it is also a irritating splinter for all those moments when we are not okay. We just have to find a way to hold on in those moments.
It is important to realize in this account of the Transfiguration that Jesus did not put the weight of that experience on one person. Like if it was just Peter who went up to the mountain, saw all those things, and then was told not to tell anyone, it would have destroyed him. Or he would have told everybody eventually. But Peter had James and John. They had each other to remind themselves that what they saw was real. They had each other when they were scared to death that everything was falling apart.
When we lose the people in our lives who can remind us of God’s grace and goodness, it becomes difficult to believe in those things in trying times. Sure, there are people who are strong enough to do that on their own. But the way that Jesus set up everything sure makes it seem like this is a group project whether we like it or not.
Everything will change. We may not see it come to fruition. We may be hurt by people or by churches along the way. But everything will change. The best that we can do is to surround ourselves with people who love us and who can remind us of God’s grace and goodness even when it is hard to see that goodness around us. Faith can be a blessing and a curse, but I think the scales can tip towards blessing as long as we’re not alone. May we find those communities and hold on.