The Second Sunday of Lent -- March 20, 2011
Matthew 17:1 – 9
After six days Jesus took with him Peter, James and John the brother of James, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light. Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus.
Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.”
While he was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!”
When the disciples heard this, they fell facedown to the ground, terrified. But Jesus came and touched them. “Get up,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.” When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.
As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus instructed them, “Don’t tell anyone what you have seen, until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
This text is rich, symbolic, and multi-layered. I’m not going to unpack all of it, but will offer three observations for reflection.
First, Jesus took Peter, James and John up a “high mountain by themselves.” A “high mountain” represents what I would call a pinnacle experience. The three followers had no idea what was in store for them. They simply followed Jesus. They were, however, following Jesus with their feet, taking the actual steps that would put them in a place to experience something significant.
[There is always a difference between following Jesus with our words or with our assent, and following Jesus with our feet. The former is relatively easy and can take place in seclusion and safety. The latter is risky and may take us some places we had not intended to go!]
We never know when the ordinary act of following Jesus will lead to a pinnacle experience.
Second, such moments of glory cannot be bottled or reproduced. They are gifts of God, glimpses behind the veil. We cannot manage them, manipulate them, or cause them to happen again. We simply receive them, live them fully, give thanks for them, and then move on.
Denise Levertov’s poem, “Only Once,” touches on the singular nature of these pinnacle experiences.
All which, because it was
flame and song and granted us
joy, we thought we’d do, be, revisit,
turns out to have been what it was
that once, only; every initiation
did not begin
a series, a build-up: the marvelous
did happen in our lives, our stories
are not drab with its absence: but don’t
expect now to return for more. Whatever more
there will be will be
unique as those were unique. Try
to acknowledge the next
song in its body-halo of flames as utterly
present, as now or never.
Third, Peter, James and John are told they won’t be able to talk about the experience. How frustrating is that? But Jesus knows that when we begin to talk about such profound experiences, a couple of things happen. One is that we subconsciously think the experience gives us a leg up on other persons. To tell someone else what we have experienced of God is one way of saying, “I’ll bet this hasn’t happened to you!” Jesus isn’t interested in these holy encounters feeding our egos. They are not given to us for ego-gratification. They are given us for humility, to see ourselves against the light of God.
The more significant thing that happens when we talk about the experience is that we cheapen the experience. In an authentic God-encounter, there is no vocabulary sufficient to describe what we’ve seen. Words fail us. I hear from people whose life with God is expanding and growing, that they often are reduced to utter silence because they have no words to describe their experience of God. We come to silence, not because we are rude, but because we don’t have the words to adequately describe the encounter.
So Jesus said, “Don’t speak about it. Don’t try to describe it. The way that you live into it from this day onward will speak loudly enough.”
After six days Jesus took with him Peter, James and John the brother of James, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light. Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus.
Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.”
While he was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!”
When the disciples heard this, they fell facedown to the ground, terrified. But Jesus came and touched them. “Get up,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.” When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.
As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus instructed them, “Don’t tell anyone what you have seen, until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
This text is rich, symbolic, and multi-layered. I’m not going to unpack all of it, but will offer three observations for reflection.
First, Jesus took Peter, James and John up a “high mountain by themselves.” A “high mountain” represents what I would call a pinnacle experience. The three followers had no idea what was in store for them. They simply followed Jesus. They were, however, following Jesus with their feet, taking the actual steps that would put them in a place to experience something significant.
[There is always a difference between following Jesus with our words or with our assent, and following Jesus with our feet. The former is relatively easy and can take place in seclusion and safety. The latter is risky and may take us some places we had not intended to go!]
We never know when the ordinary act of following Jesus will lead to a pinnacle experience.
Second, such moments of glory cannot be bottled or reproduced. They are gifts of God, glimpses behind the veil. We cannot manage them, manipulate them, or cause them to happen again. We simply receive them, live them fully, give thanks for them, and then move on.
Denise Levertov’s poem, “Only Once,” touches on the singular nature of these pinnacle experiences.
All which, because it was
flame and song and granted us
joy, we thought we’d do, be, revisit,
turns out to have been what it was
that once, only; every initiation
did not begin
a series, a build-up: the marvelous
did happen in our lives, our stories
are not drab with its absence: but don’t
expect now to return for more. Whatever more
there will be will be
unique as those were unique. Try
to acknowledge the next
song in its body-halo of flames as utterly
present, as now or never.
Third, Peter, James and John are told they won’t be able to talk about the experience. How frustrating is that? But Jesus knows that when we begin to talk about such profound experiences, a couple of things happen. One is that we subconsciously think the experience gives us a leg up on other persons. To tell someone else what we have experienced of God is one way of saying, “I’ll bet this hasn’t happened to you!” Jesus isn’t interested in these holy encounters feeding our egos. They are not given to us for ego-gratification. They are given us for humility, to see ourselves against the light of God.
The more significant thing that happens when we talk about the experience is that we cheapen the experience. In an authentic God-encounter, there is no vocabulary sufficient to describe what we’ve seen. Words fail us. I hear from people whose life with God is expanding and growing, that they often are reduced to utter silence because they have no words to describe their experience of God. We come to silence, not because we are rude, but because we don’t have the words to adequately describe the encounter.
So Jesus said, “Don’t speak about it. Don’t try to describe it. The way that you live into it from this day onward will speak loudly enough.”
Thank you for permission to not have the words. And I pray that I live fully into where God brings me.
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