Transfiguration

Shine

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Sabbath Day Thoughts “Shine” Luke 9:28-43

We have all had mountaintop moments, those bright and shining experiences when we feel close to God, one another, and the world around us. I have shared before that one of my mountaintop moments came at age twelve. That’s when I was baptized at the First Baptist Church. I had made my profession of faith and passed the scrutiny of the trustees. In an evening service of worship, in a dimly lit sanctuary, I waded into the bright baptismal tank where my pastor waited to immerse me. Going into the tank, I was most worried about my white robe floating up to expose my underwear. But once I was in the water, I could only think that this was exactly where I belonged, in waters as warm and welcoming as God’s love for me.

Later, as a young adult, I had a mountaintop moment that was instrumental in steering me toward seminary. I was volunteering in a mental health outreach ministry of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church. Every Wednesday evening, the hall filled with a small faithful core of church volunteers, residents of St. Elizabeth’s Hospital and area halfway houses for folks living with mental illness, and homeless neighbors. On my first Wednesday night, I was a little scared. But one evening, as I served ice tea to my new friends, I felt God’s limitless love, not just for me but for all of us in the church hall. It was like getting hit by a freight train in a good way. God’s limitless love was there, always there, holding us, helping us, blessing us. I knew right then and there that I wanted to spend my life in that love.

Your mountaintop moments may be similar or very different. Perhaps you had that sense of connection to God, creation, and humanity as you held your newborn child, your heart filled to the bursting point by the incalculable miracle of that moment. Perhaps your mountaintop moment came on the athletic field. As you worked with teammates in a shared purpose, you found in that unity that you could be better than you actually were, that in your shared love for the game and one another and your collaborative pursuit of excellence you were blessed; you belonged. Perhaps your mountaintop moment came in nature, whether you were summiting your 46th high peak, or paddling through the St. Regis canoe wilderness, or standing open-mouthed and filled with wonder in the eerie twilight of a total eclipse. Perhaps your mountaintop moment came in worship. It might have felt like an ordinary Sunday to others, but in the singing and the prayers, the message and the fellowship, you knew the nearness of God and your own belovedness.

If we all have mountaintop moments, then we all have valley moments, too. These are the occasions when our hearts tremble before the challenge that we face. I grew up in the valley of family dysfunction, a household troubled by alcohol abuse, domestic violence, and mental illness. The more my family under functioned, the more I tried to over function—to make peace, offer protection, be loving, be perfect. It often felt precarious, powerless, and scary. Your valley moments may have similar roots in a wounded family. Or, the valley may find us when our hearts are broken by the painful and puzzling end of a long, committed relationship. The valley finds us as we confront a bleak diagnosis or support a loved one in a time of health crisis and suffering. The valley finds us when our children struggle, pull away, and even reject us. The valley finds us when we are bowed down by grief and cannot imagine a tomorrow. The valley finds us when we tremble before the chaos unfolding on the national or world stage.

On Transfiguration Sunday, we accompany Jesus and his inner circle of disciples as they move from mountaintop to valley. Atop Mount Tabor, Peter, James, and John saw Jesus revealed in glory, the very light of God shining through him to illuminate the world. Not long before, the disciples had been troubled to hear Jesus anticipate the suffering and death that would await him in Jerusalem. On the mountaintop, flanked by Moses and Elijah, filled with heavenly light, the cross must have seemed like an impossibility for Jesus. In fact, it was such a bright and shining moment that Peter wanted it to last forever, to trade the Via Dolorosa for the moment of revelation. But those impetuous plans were thwarted by God’s proclamation, “This is my Son; listen to him!” Jesus had other plans that would return them to the valley, where a desperate father waited, seeking help for his sick son.

Transfiguration Sunday speaks to an essential tension in every life, where our mountaintop moments are followed by the hurt and hardship of the valley. Our bright and shining moments offer us clarity, affirmation, and love, but we don’t get to stay there. The valley finds us. We return to the hard work of healing.

In his second epistle to the early Christian communities that were scattered across the Roman Empire, the Apostle Peter recalled his mountaintop moment with the transfigured Jesus (2 Peter 1:16-21). He wrote, “[We were] eyewitnesses of his majesty. For he received honor and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, ‘This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’ We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain.” Peter came to think of his transfiguration experience as “a lamp shining in a dark place,” a memory with the capacity to illumine life in the valley. Our bright and shining moments kindle an unshakeable hope that shines in our darkness.

Prof. Dan Tomasulo, who teaches at the University of Pennsylvania, says that hope is the most unique of our positive emotions, because hope requires some degree of difficulty, negativity, or uncertainty to be kindled. If there isn’t something going wrong, we don’t call upon hope. When it comes to our emotional world, mountaintop and valley are a beautiful terrible dance. We find inspiration, hope, and purpose on the mountaintop. Then, as life’s valley confronts us with heartache and woe, we must call upon that hope. As hope springs into flame, the memory of our bright and shining moments equips us to face the everyday difficulties that plague us all. In drawing upon the vision and hope of the mountaintop, we find the grace to walk the lonesome valley.

Dr. Tomasulo points out that our level of hope can have a big impact on our lives. When we are high-hope people, we are energized by a passion that stirs our persistence and follow-through. We are optimistic about the future and see challenges as opportunities to grow and learn, rather than as roadblocks or obstacles that keep us stuck. High-hope people not only bounce back from setbacks—”they seem to bounce forward” and keep going despite the challenges.

If the Apostle Peter and Dr. Tomasulo are right, then we have what it takes to endure the valley and move on into the future that God holds ready. There is a holy light that shines in the memory of our times on the mountaintop, and that light never goes away. It shines in the world’s darkness; it shines in our valley. That persistent, powerful, hopeful light, is there, whenever we need it. Thanks be to God.

I’d like to close my message by leading us in a time of reflection, that invites our mountaintop moments to shine in the valley. Are we ready?

We begin by being seated comfortably with a strong back and soft front, rooted in your seat and grounded in the moment. You can adjust your body as needed, attending to how you feel.

If it feels comfortable, you may close your eyes, or simply allow your gaze to be soft and rest upon something still.

Now let’s take a few deep breaths, breathing in through the nose and releasing your breath slowly through the mouth. Imagine you are breathing in this time and place and breathing out any concerns over what has happened in the past. Breathe in this moment and breathe out any worry about what will be. Simply breathe in and out, here and now.

Now I invite you to bring to mind a bright and shining moment. This is a moment when you felt close to God, others, creation. This is a moment that feels hopeful, filled with light, connection, possibility. It’s a moment that feels a little holy, a little more than what is ordinary. Do you have your moment?

Allow that moment to come to life for you, filling you with the images, feelings, and body felt senses of the moment. Allow it to unfold. Be steeped and filled with the goodness of that moment. Take some nice deep breaths into it.

Remember that the blessing of this moment is here for you whenever you need it.

Thank God, and your body, and your breath for that memory and for this moment.

Now, I invite you to begin to come back, perhaps flexing your fingers or wiggling your toes. When you are ready, you can open your eyes.

Thank goodness for those mountaintop moments. May they shine in the valley below. Amen.

Resources:

Susan Henrich. “Commentary on Luke 9:28-36” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 27, 2022. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/transfiguration-of-our-lord-3/commentary-on-luke-928-36-37-43-5

Troy Troftgruben. “Commentary on Luke 9:28-36” in Preaching This Week, March 2, 2025. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/transfiguration-of-our-lord-3/commentary-on-luke-928-36-37-43a

Kathryn Schifferdecker. “Glimpse of Glory” in Dear Working Preacher, Feb. 27, 2022. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/glimpse-of-glory

Dan J. Tomasulo. “How to Cultivate Hope” in Psychology Today, May 2, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/articles/202305/the-power-of-hope?msockid=02b77a0d2ad563c12b2668682bd2625c

Luke 9:28-43

The Transfiguration

28 Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James and went up on the mountain to pray. 29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. 30 Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31 They appeared in glory and were speaking about his exodus, which he was about to fulfill in Jerusalem. 32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep, but as they awoke they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. 33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us set up three tents: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah,” not realizing what he was saying. 34 While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them, and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. 35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” 36 When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

Jesus Heals a Boy with a Demon

37 On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. 38 Just then a man from the crowd shouted, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. 39 Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. 40 I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.” 41 Jesus answered, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and put up with you? Bring your son here.” 42 While he was being brought forward, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. 43 And all were astounded at the greatness of God.

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Are You Listening?

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Are You Listening?” Mark 9:2-9

No one teaches us how to listen. As children, we are told to listen to our parents, and we are sent off to school with the expectation that we will listen to our teachers. But rarely will anyone sit down with a child and offer some practical wisdom on how to listen. Our expectation for kids is that listening will come naturally, but true listening is a skilled discipline. It takes practice, openness, and commitment.

One of the core class series that I have taught with our deacons over the years is “Listening Skills.” Good listening involves creating the space within ourselves to hear what the other has to say. We follow the person whom we are listening to, giving them our attention and setting aside our desire to talk back and interrupt. Listening also demands that we attend to non-verbal communication: hand gestures, eye contact, tone of voice, even the pace at which something is shared. When we listen, we respond with verbal check-ins, paraphrasing what someone has said to make sure that we got it right. We might also ask some clarifying questions if we feel confused or need more information. A good listener will withhold judgment and refrain from giving advice. They’ll also be willing to sit in silence. Until we master the basics, good listening can feel hard work, but it equips us to be exceptional caregivers, just ask anyone who has been truly listened to by one of our deacons.

There are great relational benefits to listening. We better understand the other person’s point of view and can respond with empathy. We recognize that the conversation is more about the other person than about us. We gain a better understanding of problems and may be able to collaborate to develop solutions. Not only are our relationships strengthened and deepened, those we listen to feel emotionally supported and valued.

On this Transfiguration Sunday, Mark’s gospel tells us that Peter was having a hard time listening. There on the mountaintop, Jesus was revealed in dazzling glory and joined by Elijah and Moses, the greatest prophet and the wisest teacher in scripture. It was an awesome and holy moment. I love reading the story of the Transfiguration in the King James Version of the Bible, which says that the disciples were “sore afraid.”

But Peter’s silence didn’t last long. If the appearance of Moses and Elijah signaled the end of the age, if Jesus was filled with God’s glory, then there was work to do on the mountaintop. There were shelters to build and an advertising campaign to launch. Peter could see it all: those heroes of the faith ensconced in their booths, the mountain thronged with pilgrims, the word of God flowing down the slopes and out into the world. It would be glorious. But all those plans ground to a halt as a cloud swept over them and the voice of God spoke. “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him!”  C. Clifton Black, who teaches Biblical Theology at Princeton Seminary, likes to point out that this is the only place in the Gospel of Mark where God speaks directly to the disciples. It’s important, both a declaration of love and an imperative to listen.

Perhaps the reason that Peter was having trouble listening was that he didn’t like what he had been hearing. Just six days earlier, while they were on the road to Caesarea Philippi, Jesus disclosed that he would suffer and die a terrible death before being raised. Horrified that the man whom he had rightly identified as the Messiah would make such a prediction, Peter tried to talk Jesus out of it. That didn’t go so well. Jesus silenced him with the words, “Get behind me, Satan.” On the mountaintop, Peter imagined a way out of the coming suffering: building of booths, create of a safe sanctuary where the ways of the Kingdom could be made known and carried down into the world. But according to Jesus, and now God Almighty, there would be no escaping the cross.

Listening! Not only does no one teach us how to listen, it’s also especially hard to listen when we don’t want to hear the message. Let’s be honest, there are teachings of Jesus that we could listen to all day. Love God. Love your neighbor. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. But there are plenty of Jesus’s words that we would rather not hear. Follow. Forgive those who have wronged you. Feed the hungry masses. It’s best to be last, not first. Turn the other cheek. Do not be afraid. Only believe. All those teachings are easier said than done, Jesus. This listening business is hard. Jesus sets before us the way of life and the goals of the kingdom, and we don’t want to hear about it.

Our struggle to listen is deeply ingrained in a cultural world that emphasizes doing over being. When we are in “doing” mode, we are goal oriented and achievement motivated. Our credo is “Git Er Done,” the catchphrase of the comedian Larry the Cable Guy. Git Er Done! Take action and get things accomplished. Be proactive and don’t slow down, even when faced with emotional turmoil. Just keep moving forward until you have achieved success!

When we are in “doing mode,” we find ourselves saying, “I have to . . . I must . . . I should . . . I ought . . . I need to. Dr. Zinder Segal, Distinguished Professor of Psychology at the University of Toronto, says that the problem with “doing” is that we aren’t all there in the present moment. We’re mentally off to what is next. In fact, we may even switch into “doing mode” to escape tough emotions, like grief, sadness, fear, hurt, disappointment, and anger. Does any of this sound familiar? But when we are focused on what to do next, we miss the “full multidimensional splendor” of the moment. We are like Peter on the mountaintop, who couldn’t be present to the awe-inspiring revelation of Jesus in his glory because he was already planning his big building project.

The antidote to our compulsive doing is “being.” The catch phrase here is from Psalm 62, “For God alone my soul waits in silence.” In “being mode,” our attention shifts from what comes next to the present moment. We accept and allow what is, without the pressure to change it. The moment is experienced in its full depth, width, and richness. We truly see, we really hear, we listen. We stop the driven doing. We don’t miss out on the people and places that surround us. We don’t wish away our lives thinking about the next big event. We find the space to listen to God and one another. Pastor and evangelist John Warden teaches that, “Our identity is not in what we do but in who we are as sons and daughters in Christ. To pursue God’s way is to be people of ‘being’ over people of ‘doing.’”

Dominican leader and author Richard Rohr is the founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation in New Mexico. It’s an educational nonprofit that teaches the contemplative Christian path of transformation. Rohr believes that the way of God’s Kingdom is found when we find the right balance of “doing” and “being.” We begin with being, with contemplation the practice of holy listening. We rely on the heart instead of the head. In contemplation, we prayerfully let go of our sense of control and choose instead to cooperate with God and God’s work in the world. From contemplation, God calls us to action. Being leads to doing, leads to our service to God’s Kingdom. In fact, the more we grow in our capacity for listening with the ear of our heart, the greater our capacity for world-changing social action.

If Richard Rohr is right, then Jesus took Peter, James, and John to the mountaintop to listen with their hearts. Jesus took his friends to the mountain to find in that prayerful being the courage to follow Jesus back down into the valley that would lead to the cross. If Richard Rohr is right, then our practice of being can also lead to doing. We can make the time to listen to Jesus and find the holy purpose that God holds for our lives.

No one teaches us to listen, but today’s reading from Mark’s gospel suggests that it’s never too late. If we aren’t sure how to listen to Jesus, we can use the same steps that we practice when we want to truly listen to one another. We’ll stop what we are doing and create the space within ourselves to hear what Jesus has to say. We’ll follow Jesus, attending to his words in scripture, listening in times of quiet prayer, and expressing our devotion in worship, giving him our full attention. We might want to ask clarifying questions, by digging into Bible Study, reading what scholars have to say, talking with spiritual friends, or checking in with a pastor. As good listeners, we’ll withhold judgment and refrain from thinking we know better than Jesus. We’ll be willing to sit in silence and unknowing. We’ll trust that when the time is right, our listening will flow forth in holy action, to the glory of God and for the good of our neighbors. Are we listening? May it be so.

Resources:

C. Clifton Black. “Commentary on Mark 9:2-9 in Preaching This Week, Feb. 11, 2018. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/transfiguration-of-our-lord-2/commentary-on-mark-92-9-4

Arlin Cuncic. “7 Active Listening Techniques for Better Communication” in Verywell Mind, Nov. 9, 2022. Accessed online at https://www.verywellmind.com/what-is-active-listening-3024343

Sarah Henrich. “Commentary on Mark 9:2-9 in Preaching This Week, Feb. 19, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 9:2-9 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Zindel Segal. “Being vs Doing: The Difference Between ‘Being’ and ‘Doing,’” in Mindful: Healthy Mind, Healthy Life, Dec. 18, 2022. Accessed online at https://www.mindful.org/difference-between-being-and-doing/

Mark 9:2-9

2Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, 3and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. 4And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. 5Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 6He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. 7Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” 8Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. 9As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

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Be the Light

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Be the Light” Matthew 17:1-9

Followers of Jesus have been debating the meaning of his Transfiguration for almost 2,000 years.

Within our Protestant Reformed tradition, the Transfiguration is celebrated on this last Sunday before the season of Lent. Transfiguration closes out the season that begins with those post-Christmas Sundays: Epiphany and Baptism of the Lord.  The Magi followed that brilliant star to find the newborn king. God proclaimed from the heavens at Jesus’s baptism that he is God’s beloved Son.  It’s entirely fitting, as we enter the Lenten valley, that there should be a mountaintop moment, the Transfiguration, to remind us that the heavenly light shines in Jesus, the Beloved Son whom we should be listening to.

Our brothers and sisters in the Orthodox and Roman Catholic traditions won’t be celebrating Christ’s Transfiguration until August sixth.  That’s when they observe the feast day, deep in the heart of those long weeks of Ordinary Time that stretch from Pentecost to Christ the King Sunday.  Once upon a time, no one agreed when the Transfiguration should be observed.  In the tenth century, it was celebrated in France and England on July 27th, in Saxony on March 17th, and at Halberstadt on September 3rd. Finally, in 1456 Pope Callixtus III established the date of the Transfiguration for the universal church on August 6th, in memory of the victory won over the invading Turks at Belgrade.

Even modern-day Bible scholars disagree about the Transfiguration.  An influential block of twentieth century experts, including Rudolf Bultmann, argued that when Matthew, Mark, and Luke were writing their gospels, they got the date wrong.  These scholars say that the Transfiguration is actually a resurrection experience.  It belongs at the end of the synoptic gospels when they imagined it more likely that the risen Lord would appear to his inner circle of disciples and grant them a vision of his glorified resurrection body that would soon be permanently communing with Moses and Elijah in that far brighter light on that far better shore.

Just reading the Transfiguration story confronts us with the fact that, at the time, even the disciples didn’t know what to make of their experience. That most trusted of disciples Peter was definitely clueless. Confounded by all that holiness, Peter wanted to pitch some tents.  We’re still not sure whether the dwellings were meant to be an act of hospitality, a plan to preserve the moment, or just an uncomfortable effort to do and say something to relieve the mystery and stress of an experience that he really couldn’t wrap his head around.

If the disciples and the Bible scholars and the major branches of world Christianity can’t agree on the date, significance, and timing of the Transfiguration, then what hope is there for us? Help us, Jesus!

David Lose is a Lutheran pastor and former president of The Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia.  When David teaches about the Transfiguration, he likes to call attention to what followed the dazzling, numinous, incomprehensible moment of enlightenment on the mountaintop when God spoke from the heavens, telling Peter to pipe down and listen up to the Beloved Son. Suddenly, the light was gone, the disciples had fallen on their faces in fear, and Jesus was still there, looking like he usually does. The Lord went to the disciples.  He touched them.  He comforted them. Then, he set their feet on the path that would take them back down the mountain and into the valley where the world waited, in desperate need of love and light.

In Jesus, God chose to enter the world with love and light. Instead of dwelling on the mountain in glorious mystery with holy conversation partners like Moses and Elijah, Jesus chose the disciples. Jesus chose to be in the midst of trouble with followers who often felt confused, who didn’t always know the right thing to say or do. Jesus would be with them to help and to heal, whether he looked glorified or not.  The Transfiguration offers a promise of accompaniment and presence. That promise would later be confirmed at the close of Matthew’s gospel when the risen Lord stood with his disciples atop another Galilean mountain. As Jesus prepared to ascend to his Father—and his friends Moses and Elijah—Jesus again reminded his frightened followers that he would always be with them, even to the end of the age.

Years later, as Peter neared the end of his life, he wrote to the early church and described his memory of the Transfiguration as “a lamp shining in a dismal place.” Through years of witness and ministry that would take Peter from the Galilee to the heart of the empire in Rome, his experience of the Lord’s Transfiguration would stand as a holy reminder of the presence and power of Jesus.  Peter would trust that amid the fear and darkness of his world, Jesus would always reach out to frightened disciples with light and life, sustaining the church until the Kingdom would come, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in our hearts (2 Peter 1:17).

John, too, when he wrote his gospel, would hold fast to that memory of light. In the glorious opening verses of his gospel, John would remember the Transfiguration, writing, “The Word became flesh and took up residence among us.  We observed his glory, the glory as of the ‘one and only Son’ of the Father.” John trusted in the promise of the Transfiguration: that the light continues to shine in the world’s darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it (John 1).

Perhaps the question that we should be asking on Transfiguration Sunday isn’t, “What does all that numinous holiness mean?”  Perhaps the better question that we should be asking ourselves is, “How am I called to live in response to the transfigured Lord who has chosen to be with me in all my fear and limitation in the midst of this dark world?”

The late Archbishop Joseph Raya of the ancient Greek Melkite Church taught that the Transfiguration is a call for disciples to be the light amid the world’s darkness.  Raya said, “Transfiguration is not simply an event out of the two-thousand-year-old past, or a future yet to come. It is rather a reality of the present, a way of life available to those who seek and accept Christ’s nearness.  We can live lives transfigured by the nearness of Jesus, and we can go forth to transfigure our world.”

Joseph Raya would spend a lifetime being the light of Christ and getting into “good trouble.” Born to a Christian family in Lebanon in 1916, he was ordained in 1941 in the midst of the chaos of the second World War.  He taught in Cairo until 1948 when he was expelled from Egypt for advocating for the rights of women. Raya believed women should have the right to receive an education and generally defended the dignity of women. Raya advised an Arab woman to slap the face of any man who made inappropriate sexual advances toward her, no matter the man’s rank. When the deserved slap was delivered to King Farouk, Father Raya was given twenty-four hours to leave the country.

The following year, Raya emigrated to the United States.  In 1952, he was appointed pastor of the Melkite Church in Birmingham, Alabama, where he befriended Martin Luther King, Jr. The two marched together across Alabama, including the March on Selma. This made him a target for the KKK. On one occasion, Raya was dragged from his home in the church’s rectory and badly beaten by three clansmen, who taunted him with the name “Nigger Lover.” Raya responded, “Yes, I am, and I love you too.” His witness of love toward all people caused one of the men who beat him to call and beg his forgiveness 35 years later.

In 1968, Raya returned to the Middle East when he was appointed the Melkite Archbishop of Akko, Haifa, Nazareth, and all Galilee. There he continued to be light, working for reconciliation between Christians, Jews, Muslims, and Druze. He brought along his gifts for non-violent direct action, organizing marches and sit-ins, and engaging in a highly publicized hunger strike to advocate for the return of Palestinian refugees to their Galilee homes. 

President Carter awarded Joseph Raya the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1980.  Raya was later nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. When the Archbishop died in 2005 at the age of 89, Coretta Scott King wrote of him, “At a time when the nation’s most prominent clergy were silent, Archbishop [Raya] courageously supported our Freedom Movement and marched with my husband.  Throughout his life, he continued to support the nonviolent movement against poverty, racism, and violence.”

On this Transfiguration Sunday, as we are again dazzled by that holy vision of the glorified Jesus on the mountaintop, may we remember that the Lord is with us still. He reaches out to us in our fear and confusion and reminds us that there is work to be done.  May we go forth to be the light, transfiguring our world, one simple act of kindness and justice at a time.

Resources

Robert H. Stein. “Is the Transfiguration a Misplaced Resurrection-Account?” Journal of Biblical Literature, 1976, pp. 79-96. Accessed online at https://biblicalstudies.org.uk/pdf/jbl/1976_stein.pdf

Robert Klesko. “A Profile in True Social Justice — Birmingham’s Archbishop Joseph Raya,” National Catholic Register, Sept. 27, 2021. Accessed online at https://www.ncregister.com/blog/archbishop-raya-true-social-justice

Lesya Sabada. “Archbishop Joseph Raya – Apostle of Peace and Love” in Arab America, Nov. 13, 2014. Accessed online at https://www.arabamerica.com/archbishop-joseph-raya-apostle-of-peace-and-love/

–. “The Greek Archbishop That Marched with Martin Luther King, Jr.” in Greek Gateway, June 2, 2020. Accessed online at https://www.greekgateway.com/news/the-greek-archbishop-that-marched-with-martin-luther-king-jr/

David Lose. “Commentary on Matthew 17:1-9” in Preaching This Week, March 6, 2011. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Ronald J. Allen. “Commentary on Matthew 17:1-9” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 19, 2023. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Eric Barreto. “Commentary on Matthew 17:1-9” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 23, 2020. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Matthew 17:1-9

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. 2 And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became bright as light. 3 Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. 4 Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I[a] will set up three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 5 While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, the Beloved;[b] with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” 6 When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. 7 But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” 8 And when they raised their eyes, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. 9 As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

image: “Transfiguration” by Kelly Latimore (Vanderbilt Divinity Library- Shared through Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial ShareAlike 3.0 License). Accessed online at https://www.pulpitfiction.com/narrative-notes/3-29.

Mountain High, Valley Low

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Mountain High, Valley Low,” Luke 9:28-43a

When Heidi Neumark was called to pastor the Transfiguration Lutheran Church in the South Bronx, she was in for a challenge.  The recent seminary graduate came to a parish that faced daunting, even toxic, realities.  The community was New York City’s dumping ground.  Waste treatment plants managed the city’s sewage.  A giant incinerator burned hazardous medical waste from area hospitals.  A massive dump received the city’s refuse.  The air was filled with toxins that fueled New York’s highest incidence of asthma.  Arriving on Sunday mornings, Neumark would often have to clear away garbage.  Broken furniture, old appliances, and boxes of worn-out household items were left at the church under the cover of darkness to avoid paying dump fees.

The social difficulties of Transfiguration Lutheran Church were every bit as daunting.  60% of neighborhood families got by on government assistance.  80% of children lived in poverty.  Unemployment for the South Bronx was 70%.  20% of adults suffered from HIV.  28% of deaths each year were attributable to drugs, AIDS, and violence.  The church’s neighbors were the extreme poor, those left behind when others moved away: addicts, prostitutes, abused women, single mothers and their children, and gangs.  Those were overwhelming realities for a church that had seen its heyday in the 19th century and experienced a hundred years of decline. 

When Neumark arrived, church doors were locked, except on Sunday mornings. A faithful corps of members persevered, gathering to worship God in the midst of that blighted community.  Although it was a tough call for a new pastor, Neumark found hope in the church’s name: Transfiguration Lutheran Church.  In Breathing Space, Heidi Neumark’s spiritual memoir of twenty years of service to that church, she writes that the transfiguration of Jesus could be “a vision to carry us down, a glimpse of unimagined possibility at ground level.”  The spiritual mountaintop of Transfiguration Lutheran Church was being called to the needs that awaited them in the valley of the South Bronx.

On Transfiguration Sunday, we join the disciples on the mountaintop with Jesus and watch as he is revealed in heavenly glory.  Flanked by those titans of the Hebrew scriptures, Moses and Elijah, Jesus is transformed.  His face shines.  His clothes dazzle.  This clearly is no ordinary rabbi and healer.  This is no prophet.  Jesus is the Holy One of God.  Peter may have wanted to enshrine the moment with three permanent dwelling places, but God had other plans.  In a theophany, a heavenly proclamation, God instructed Peter, James, and John, “This is my Son, the Chosen One; listen to him.”

Transfiguration Sunday also takes us to the valley.  There another father calls for special attention for his beloved son.  Although Jesus had given his disciples the power and authority to cast out demons and heal the sick, they have failed to provide relief for this boy.  The anger and frustration that Jesus feels as he learns of the child’s suffering suggest that the disciples’ failure had nothing to do with ability and everything to do with willingness.  Those disciples may have been daunted by the power of the oppressive spirit.  Or, perhaps they feared the boy’s violent seizures.  Or, it could be that they had been too busy.  Or, maybe they doubted the very abilities that Jesus had entrusted to them.  These disciples may have not been listening to Jesus, but the demon that possessed the child does.  As the demon convulses the boy in a violent fit, Jesus steps in, rebukes the spirit, and casts it out.  Freed from his suffering, the cured boy is returned to his father.  Jesus’s healing and restoration transfigure the lives of father and son who are no longer held captive by the power of destructive evil.

Those two very different stories: the shining moment on the mountain and the convulsed chaos of the valley belong together.  In reflecting on our transfiguration reading, Prof. Sharon Ringe, a New Testament scholar at Wesley Seminary, writes that “the glory of God’s presence and the pain of a broken world cannot be separated.”  That’s a powerful, world changing statement, “the glory of God’s presence and the pain of a broken world cannot be separated.” 

Indeed, in Jesus God enters into the world’s suffering and suffuses it with God’s presence.  That’s what we see on the mountain high.  And Jesus has the power to meet the world’s suffering head-on with healing, compassion, and love.  That’s what we see in the valley low.  The Lord hopes that his disciples will make his glory known, not just on the mountaintop of reverence, worship, and praise, but also in the valleys of sickness, powerlessness, and despair.  When we listen to Jesus, when we bring his power and authority, compassion and love, to our neighbors, transfiguration happens.  The world begins to change and so do we.

At the Transfiguration Lutheran Church in the South Bronx, profound change began to happen for the church and the community when members brought the glory of God’s presence to meet the pain of their broken world.  They began by listening to their neighbors and pondering how they could respond to some of their most pressing needs.  Then, they moved beyond Sunday morning worship, unlocked the church doors, and welcomed the community in.  The church launched a food pantry which serves between 130 and 140 families weekly.  They opened up their hall to twelve-step fellowships to support folks seeking recovery from addiction.  They pondered how they could best help local youth and established the Community Life Center, an after-school tutoring program and job training center.  They provided resources and healing groups to address domestic violence and help folks living with HIV.  They even partnered with local police to host a gun buyback program to get illegal handguns out of homes and off the streets.  Pastor Heidi got other churches involved, too, working to establish South Bronx Churches.  This ecumenical fellowship provides mutual support and collaboration for pastors and churches as they seek to address the community’s needs.

As the church brought the glory of God’s presence to meet the pain of their broken community, it wasn’t just the community that was transfigured.  Transfiguration Lutheran Church changed, too.  They attracted new people, some of whom had never set foot in a church before.  They came for programs but got passionate about the church.  They worshipped, prayed, and found the love of Jesus.  They got busy cleaning and refurbishing.  They tackled long-deferred maintenance.  They stepped into leadership.  Burnice was an addict who came to the church to pick up a Christmas gift at a give-away.  She intended to trade the gift for enough drugs to take her own life.  But she didn’t.  There was something about the church that kept her coming back.  With encouragement from the church, she got into recovery, earned her GED, and found a job.  Once a neighbor to be feared and avoided, Burnice is now a pillar of the church and a community leader. 

Despite their real challenges and personal tragedies, church members have worked together to help one another and their neighborhood.  In shining Christ’s glory for others, they have been richly blessed with that glory themselves.  Heidi Neumark writes, “I have learned that grace cleaves to the depths, attends to the losses, and there slowly works her defiant transfiguration.”

On Transfiguration Sunday, we hear a renewed call to bring the glory of God’s presence to meet the pain of a broken world.  We spend our Sunday mornings on the mountaintop.  We encounter Jesus in prayer and music, scripture and the word proclaimed.  It’s glorious.  Yet Jesus always sends us back down into the valley.  We go forth to fathers who worry about their ill children and mothers who struggle to put food on the table.  We go forth to a community where sisters and brothers wrestle with the oppressive spirits of addiction.  We live in a place of middle-class homes, multi-million-dollar seasonal camps, tumble-down cabins, rusted out trailers, and hardcore generational poverty. 

We may feel daunted by the power of those oppressive spirits.  We may fear all that need.  We may doubt the very abilities that Jesus has entrusted to us.  But God’s transfiguration hope is that the glory of Christ may meet the suffering of the world through disciples like us.  Transfiguration Sunday finds its fulfillment when we move from reverence to action.  The world gets transfigured, and so do we.  May it be so.  Amen.

Resources:

Heidi B. Neumark. Breathing Space: A Spiritual Journey in the South Bronx. Boston: Beacon Press, 2004.

Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat.  “A Review of Breathing Space” in Spirituality and Practice, 2004.  Accessed online at spiritualityandpractice.com.

Lori Brandt Hale. “Theological Perspective on Luke 9:28-43a” in Feasting on the Word, Year C, vol. 1, 2009.

Sharon Ringe. “Exegetical Perspective on Luke 9:28-43a” in Feasting on the Word, Year C, vol. 1, 2009.

Kimberly Miller Van Driel. Homiletical Perspective on Luke 9:28-43a” in Feasting on the Word, Year C, vol. 1, 2009.

Luke 9:28-43a

28 Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. 29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. 30 Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31 They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. 32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. 33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”—not knowing what he said. 34 While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. 35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” 36 When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen. 37 On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. 38 Just then a man from the crowd shouted, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. 39 Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. 40 I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.” 41 Jesus answered, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here.” 42 While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. 43 And all were astounded at the greatness of God.

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