A Sermon preached by Rev. Deana Frances Dudley

at Holy Fellowship MCC and Christos MCC

2 March 2003

One thing I miss living here in the eastern part of North America is mountains. Where I grew up in California, we could be in the Sierra Nevada foothills – which are REAL mountains – in a short drive, and I kind of miss them. That’s the problem with this end of the continent. No real mountains. For instance, the highest peak in eastern North America is Mt. Mitchell, a part of the Blue Ridge, down in North Carolina. It’s 6,684 feet high. Out west, though, we have mountains in the Sierra Nevadas and the Rockies that are in the 15-18,000 foot range. The highest peak in all of Canada is Mt. Logan, at 19,551 feet (according to Canadian Geographic), up in the Yukon. But even Mt. Logan doesn’t make it into the list of the world’s hundred tallest mountains, about 80 of which are in the Himalayas, and the rest are in the Andes, in South America. So we’ve got a ways to go to find a REAL mountain. I find great beauty in the Canadian Shield, but did you know that it’s a mere 1,640 feet at its highest point? Not exactly a mountain. Aren’t you glad I look these things up for you?

So, for the mountaintop experience of the Transfiguration, wouldn’t you think that Jesus and the disciples would have had a fairly impressive mountain? I mean, literally and figuratively, what is it you want from a "mountaintop experience?" You want the heights! You want something lofty and soaring and majestic. What they had, though, was probably something more like the Canadian Shield, only drier, and with fewer trees.

It doesn’t say, in Mark’s gospel, just exactly WHICH mountain Jesus and Peter and James and John went up; there’s been a lot of idle speculation. Some suggest Mt. Hermon, which is the tallest mountain in Israel, at about 7,000 feet, which, frankly, for me as a westerner, is still kind of unimpressive.

OK, no more statistics. So, why DO people climb mountains? Edmund Hillary said, of Mt. Everest, simply "Because it’s there." But mountaintops are special places, in a lot of different ways. For instance, if you’re hiking in the wilderness, and you want to find out where the heck you are, you climb to the top of the handiest mountain.

And from the peak you can look back on where you’ve been, and on towards where you’re headed. You can get some perspective, some sense of your place in the scheme of things. In the midst of your journey, the goal becomes a little clearer.

Another reason to climb a mountain is that there’s some advantage in the high ground. Ever hear of the Golan Heights? Those are mountains in Northern Israel. Actually, they used to be in Southern Syria, before the ‘67 war. And the reason that they changed hands, and have been changing hands pretty regularly for all of recorded history, is that from them, you can look down on, or if you prefer, rain artillery down on, all of Israel, right down to the sea. The high ground is strategic.

So there are lots of excellent reasons to climb a mountain. But Jesus and Peter and John and James climbed this particular mountain for a different reason – to pray. They were looking for something different. Not simply a clear view, or a strategic move. They were looking for another kind of "mountaintop experience."

Do y’all know what I mean by a "mountaintop experience?" I suspect that most of you have had your own mountaintop experiences. For some people, mountains are physical places of refuge where you go to "get away from it all" and re-connect with God. For others the "mountains" are not so much physical places as they are spiritual places where you sense the power of God's presence within you or around you. And whether the mountaintops are, for us, a physical place of refuge, or a spiritual retreat, we often don’t want to return from them, to get back into the rest of life.

But whatever our mountaintop experiences may have been, they all pale by comparison to the experience that Jesus and his disciples had on the mount of transfiguration. I mean, what could possibly have prepared Peter, James, and John for what happened to them on that mountaintop? It was like nothing they’d ever experienced before. They go up the mountain in order to pray. But while Jesus is praying, the disciples doze off. Something, however, startles them. They wake up. I mean they REALLY wake up, like they’ve never woken up before, and there’s Jesus standing before them, shining and radiant, and flanked on either side by Moses and Elijah, the two greatest prophets of old. And the disciples aren't quite sure what to make of all this.

But Peter – never one to let lack of understanding stand in his way -- says let’s pitch a tent so that we can all camp out here together. In other words, "This is way cool, so let's just hang out here and enjoy this time for as long as we can." But then comes what Mark calls "a cloud [that] overshadowed them." And the cloud spoke. "This is my beloved child; listen to him!" You know, that’s got to be a little disconcerting, having a cloud wrap its arms around you and start talking to you. You think to yourself, "this doesn’t happen."

Well, the thing is, there were with two other folks to whom it had, in fact happened – Moses and Elijah. It happened to Moses on Mt. Sinai, where God came to him and gave him the tablets of the Law. It happened to Elijah, you may recall, who also met God on a mountain, in a cloud, in a storm cloud that passed him by, and then spoke to him.... but in a still small voice, and God was in the still small voice. So for Moses and Elijah, the mountaintop experience literally.... LITERALLY, meant an encounter with the real presence and power of God.

It was about learning that God is not JUST some imposing, distant, majesty. It was learning that God is powerfully present with them. For them, the view from the mountaintop was a whole new perspective on God.

And THAT’s the real mountaintop experience that we’re all striving for. THAT’s why we climb spiritual mountains. And that’s why we don’t want them to end, because we want to hold on to that sense that we have Of God’s presence in our lives, and we fear that we can’t have it anyplace else. And that’s not simply escapism, it’s healing, and we want it and need it and don’t want to let it go. Alas, in life, as in geography, there are no mountaintops without a valley. We live our lives in the valleys. But thank God there are also no valleys without a view of the mountaintop. So we try to hold on to the mountaintop moments. They’re moments that you can’t really explain, an encounter with the real presence and power of God. Who can possibly explain to another person how the divine is present in our everyday experience? But God is....

You remember back at the beginning of this season in the church year, Epiphany, when we looked at what an "epiphany" meant? It’s one of those "Aha!" moments when all is revealed, when everything suddenly becomes clear, when the little lightbulb comes on over our heads. When, like Peter and James and John in this account, we suddenly WAKE UP, and there’s God shining in a new light, and enveloping us in radiance. It’s those times along the way, when our future direction may suddenly come clear to us, or we may stop momentarily to survey the distance already traveled and the goal before us, like a hiker in the woods who climbs to the top of a hill to get a clear fix on the road that lies ahead.

It’s those times of retreat for prayer, and meditation, and rest, when the shape of the whole -- the bigger picture -- may become clear to us. It’s those times in the midst of a deep emotional and spiritual struggle, at a bedside or a graveside, when the real meaning of the good news, and the nature of God become clear to us in ways that transcend ordinary experience. It’s the throes of a hard fight for justice, when we discover a purpose or a calling that casts a radiant light over the rest of our lives. That’s a mountaintop moment. A moment of supreme clarity, when you can really understand where you’ve been, and where you’re going, and WHY.

The disciples wanted to build booths and stay on the mountaintop, but, as much as they longed to, they couldn’t stop time or live on in the radiance of that moment forever. We can’t either. Discipleship involves following, going on. Mark records that after the voice from heaven said "This is my beloved child; listen to him,".... the moment was over.

But, as you might imagine, the mountaintop experience that they witnessed,that they were part of, remained with them, and it shaped them, and it became part of their witness to who Christ was for them. Peter wrote about this much later, in the Second Letter of Peter (1:16-19). He said: "We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Sovereign, Jesus Christ. We have been eyewitnesses of his majesty. For he received honour and glory from God when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory saying, "This is my beloved child, with whom I am well pleased." We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven while we were with him on the holy mountain. So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place - until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts."

As we come into the season of Lent, I think that we, too, do well to be attentive to this experience, in the manner that Peter suggests. WE do well to attend to the fact that Jesus is the one to whom we are commanded to listen, the beloved child -- the one who’s able to carry us into the presence of God.

Sometimes we forget this. We forget that the moment has changed us forever. Sometimes we fall into our daily routines without a thought about the divinity that surrounds us, without any real awareness of the power that surrounds us and holds us up. We lose track of where we’re going; we lose track of whose we are and what’s been promised to those who listen to that voice.... To those who stop the hustle and bustle and really listen.... listen to the point where we can hear the pulse beating in our ears and feel the air moving in and out of our lungs..... listen to the point where images began to dance on the back of our eyelids and the spirit begins to put words upon our hearts, words we don’t think about... words of praise and of assurance, words of guidance and of comfort.

How many people actually have the kind of experience or vision like the one described in today's gospel? I can't say I have. A voice from heaven has never come forth from a cloud in my presence. But... you know.... it seems like every now and then we get a glimpse of the glory that surrounds us. I know from the things that I occasionally see when I stop what I’m doing and look and listen to what’s happening around me, that there’s a vast and great power operating in this world -- an invisible power that manifests itself in amazing expressions of love and care -- and upon occasion in vivid demonstrations of raw power and incredible beauty. And that’s what prepares us and strengthens us to live down here in the valley. To come down off of the mountain and work a while.

When we step aside for a while, to climb that mountain of transfiguration and to fix our eyes on the fire and the cloud of God's presence, and to pray - and to listen.... when we climb the mountain, each one of us is invited to meet God face to face, and then to carry the light that shines upon us into the world. As Paul writes: "We,... all reflect God’s glory, [we] are being transformed into God’s likeness with ever-increasing glory,...."

We, too, reflect God’s glory. Like those disciples on the mountain, we can encounter God face to face, and we reflect the light of God back to the world when we come down from the mountain. To follow on in confidence that God IS present in power and glory, and leading us to something that lies ahead, something even greater than what we’ve already experienced. The view from the scenic overlook may be majestic, but the road ahead beckons.... There will be other vistas and other transforming experiences ahead.... because for us, like those disciples on the mountain, God is revealed in Christ, and ultimately, in us.