University Presbyterian Church - Chapel Hill, NC

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by Anna Pinckney Straight

February 14, 2010

2 Corinthians 3:12 - 4:2

Since, then, we have such a hope, we act with great boldness, not like Moses, who put a veil over his face to keep the people of Israel from gazing at the end of the glory that was being set aside. But their minds were hardened. Indeed, to this very day, when they hear the reading of the old covenant, that same veil is still there, since only in Christ is it set aside. Indeed, to this very day whenever Moses is read, a veil lies over their minds; but when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit. Therefore, since it is by God's mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God's word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God.  (NRSV)

Luke 9:28-36

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. 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. 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. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" 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.

Lay down my dear brother lay down and take your rest

Oh won't you lay your head upon your savior’s breast

I love you, oh but Jesus loves you the best

And I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight

And I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight[1]

These were the words of the final encore of the 1990 Grateful Dead shows in Atlanta.  I can’t tell you why I was there.  It certainly wasn’t a place I expected to be, and looking back it still surprises me.  I think I was still a young republican at that point in my life. 

I’m not sure what made me go, but there I was. 

The Omni , Atlanta’s largest concert venue at the time, was packed full.  Fuller than full.  Tickets were a nice idea, but the goal of the fans was to get as many people in there as possible.    We were an over-capacity crowd.

And by the time we’d gotten to the end of the show it was late, and it had been a long night.   Amazing, and late.

Then they sang their encore.  And the crowd grew quiet.  Nobody moved.  And we began to sing along.  And clap.  In rhythm.  In tune.   That’s hard for 100 people to do, but 15,000, maybe as many as 17.000[2], did it that night.

Lay down my dear brother lay down and take your rest

Oh won't you lay your head upon your savior’s breast

I love you, oh but Jesus loves you the best

And I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight

And I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.

It was twenty years ago, and I remember it like it was yesterday, because I’d never experienced community like that.    That large.   That diverse.

Unity.  Presence.  Nobody headed for the doors, trying to beat the traffic.  Nobody started to pack up their concert gear.  People sang.  They clapped and cheered.  We were there.  In that moment.    It was a tiny glimpse at what people, gathered together for a common purpose, could do.

It wasn’t a mountaintop experience, exactly.  I was WAY out of my element.  I didn’t know the culture or many of the songs.  At the time, I couldn’t have found the words to talk about it.  It wasn’t bliss.  It was significant.

The disciples didn’t have a mountaintop experience on the mountaintop, either.  From all accounts, it was overwhelming.  Terrifying.  Mindboggling.

And significant beyond anything they could have imagined.  It didn’t just hint at a larger reality, it placed it right there in front of them, in dazzling form. 

Jesus, talking with Moses and Elijah in a strategy session, talking about what was about to happen in Jerusalem.  On a cross, and three days later in a tomb.

And then, the altered reality continued, in cloud form, with the voice of God making sure that their terror was complete.

The disciples.  Their lives had already changed.  They had left their nets behind and embarked upon a new journey.  Maybe they felt like they were just finding their land legs, when the playing field shifted.  Again.  Jesus wasn’t going to be Jesus like they thought, continuing to live and teach and preach for decades to come.

They knew Jesus was big.  Did they know he was this big? Bigger than Moses and Elijah big?[3]

Being confronted with the glory of God, no matter where it shows up, is like that.  Disorienting.  Overwhelming.  It does not lend itself to an instantaneous, coherent, response.

Understanding what it means to be disciples, to be people of faith, and a community of faith, doesn’t appear before us, fully formed, like Moses and Elijah did before Peter, James, and John.

It grows ~as their faith did ~ until one day when, far less all of a sudden than bit by bit, they weren’t the former fisherman anymore, they were apostles and martyrs.  Teachers, healers, and preachers.

They may have stayed silent in the days after their experience on the mountain, but they didn’t remain silent forever.  Our presence here is testament to that.

What can happen when a group of people, two or three, 15,000 or millions gather with their sole foundation being the grace of God?  Anything.

What opportunities for faith are still out there?  For you and for me, children of God.  For us, a community of faith, united in baptism, called forth in faith to shout against injustice, care for those who are in need.  To rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15)

Today is transfiguration Sunday.  We have already received new members.  New members who we hope will grow in faith and in love as they find their way into and throughout University Presbyterian Church.  New members who, if we listen, will change how we reflect the love of God as a congregation.

In a few minutes, we will be ordaining and installing officers.  Deacons and elders.  We don’t ask them to survey the congregation and make decisions based on poll results. We ask them to pray.  To worship.  To study their Bibles and their hearts and do the very best they can to discern where God is leading this congregation, knowing that there is no reason to expect that each step will be predictable or easy.  In fact, if they are predictable and easy, that might be the best indicator of all that we’ve taken a wrong turn.

Next Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, marking the beginning of Lent, the season of spiritual discernment, repentance.  When we take ashes upon our foreheads and remember that we are mortal, and then symbolically walk with Jesus into the wilderness for forty days, burying our alleluias. 

Some will mark this time by giving something up for forty days, something that keeps us from greater faithfulness.

Some will mark this time by taking something on, something that will lead us, hopefully, to greater faithfulness. 

What might that be for you?

For us?

Whether you give something up, take something on, work on a practical or emotional goal, or simply need the grace to have forty days when you aren’t being critical of yourself, we will be walking, together, towards Jerusalem, to the events about which Jesus spoke with Moses and Elijah.

We don’t know exactly what will happen on the road ahead.  Peter, James, and John didn’t.  We don’t.  What we do know is this:  Being a disciples of Jesus Christ.  Being a baptized child of God.  Being a member of the church, the Body of Christ on earth.  It means that we will change direction.  Our directions will be changed for us, if we pay attention.  Not just once, but many times. 

It’s not a matter of being ready for the changes that are ahead, it’s a matter of being able to see the world in new ways, illuminated by the overwhelming, terrifying, but also dazzling presence of God, whose love knew and continues to know no limits, and who, unlike even the best of encores, is without end.  And whose light changes everything.

Amen.