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The Sunday of Transfiguration (that odd reading about a mountaintop experience) is the end of the Epiphany season. Epiphany means “manifestation”—revealing. That is the message of the first hymn we sang this morning. Sing of God made Manifest in a child, at the Jordan, at the Cana wedding, and on the cloud-capped mountain.
This morning I would like us to comtemplate the transfiguration through some hymns found in our hymnal.
Starting with Hymn #191, let us join Peter, James and John on the mountaintop with Jesus
Hymn #191, We Have Come at Christ’s Own Bidding
1. We have come at Christ’s own bidding to this high and holy place,
where we wait with hope and longing for some token of God’s grace.
Here we pray for new assurance that our faith is not in vain,
searching like those first disciples for a sign both clear and plain.
2. Light breaks through our clouds and shadows; splendor bathes the flesh-joined Word;
Moses and Elijah marvel as the heavenly voice is heard.
Eyes and hearts behold with wonder how the law and prophets meet:
Christ, with garments drenched in brightness, stands transfigured and complete.
3. Strengthened by this glimpse of glory, fearful lest our faith decline,
we like Peter find it tempting to remain and build a shrine.
But true worship gives us courage to proclaim what we profess,
that our daily lives may prove us people of the God we bless.
We have witnessed a glorious transformation on the mountain. We have heard God’s word again, “This is my beloved. Listen to him.” It’s tempting to stay in the rarified air, away from the troubles of everyday life, away from everyone else, cloistered from “life down there” and all it asks of us. But this is not the message of the story of Transfiguration.
In October of 1964 Martin Luther King Jr, had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, and in December he had gone to Oslo it on behalf of the Civil Rights Movement. But on January 27, 1965 he knew what he had to do. He said, “I must confess that I have enjoyed being on this mountaintop and I am tempted to want to stay here and retreat to a more quiet and serene life. But something within reminds me that the valley calls me in spite of all its agonies, dangers, and frustrating moments. I must return to the valley. Something tells me that the ultimate test of a man is not where he stand in moments of comfort and moments of convenience, but where he stands in moments of challenge and moments of controversy. So I must return to the valley.”
We too can have mountaintop experiences with God and each other, but we are always called back to “real life.”
Let’s hear this message in Tom Troeger’s hymn #190 “Swiftly Pass the Clouds of Glory.” I find it interesting that he has paired his words with a tune that is in both a minor and major key. Notice that the minor key is on the mountaintop, the major key is when we come back to the valley, even if it be the valley of the shadow of death.
Hymn #190, Swiftly Pass the Clouds of Glory
1. Swiftly pass the clouds of glory, heaven's voice, the dazzling light;
Moses and Elijah vanish; Christ alone commands the height!
Peter, James, and John fall silent, turning from the summit's rise
downward toward the shadowed valley where their Lord has fixed his eyes.
2. Glimpsed and gone the revelation, they shall gain and keep its truth,
not by building on the mountain any shrine or sacred booth,
but by following the Savior through the valley to the cross
and by testing faith's resilience through betrayal, pain, and loss.
3. Lord, transfigure our perception with the purest light that shines,
and recast our life's intentions to the shape of your designs,
till we seek no other glory than what lies past Calvary's hill
and our living and our dying and our rising by your will.
So why would those who put together the lectionary readings think this story was the best way to move us from Epiphany to Lent? It occurs in the midst of Jesus’ ministry, not right before his turn to Jerusalem. So why do we read it out of context? I think it may have something to do with valleys and mountaintops, in a strange way. For Lent points us to Golgatha—a hill in Jerusalem where everyone would be able to plainly see the executed. Is that a mountaintop or a valley? Or both? Just as the transfiguration is a moment when we see who Jesus really is—so are the cross, the empty tomb, and the resurrected Lord! And maybe we need to hold onto the vision of Jesus glorified for the hard journey ahead.
That is what is suggested in Hymn #193 “Jesus, Take Us to the Mountain.” Notice that this hymn wants us to see, and to hear, both the vision on the mountain and the horror on the hill.
Hymn # 193, Jesus, Take Us to the Mountain
1. Jesus, take us to the mountain, where, with Peter, James, and John,
we are dazzled by your glory, light as blinding as the sun.
There prepare us for the night by the vision of that sight.
2. What do you want us to see there, that your close companions saw?
Your divinity revealed there fills us with the selfsame awe.
Clothed in flesh like ours you go, matched to meet our deadliest foe.
3. What do you want us to hear there, that your dear disciples heard?
Once again the voice from heaven says of the Incarnate Word,
"Listen, listen, everyone: this is my beloved Son."
4. Take us to that other mountain where we see you glorified,
where you shouted "It is finished!" where for all the world you died.
Hear the stunned centurion: "Truly this was God's own Son!"
5. We who have beheld your glory, risen and ascended Lord,
cannot help but tell the story, all that we have seen and heard;
say with Peter, James, and John: "You are God's beloved Son!"
Our sermon truly ends with the final hymn of our service: “O Wondrous Sight, O Vision Fair” with its translation of a 15th century devotional test wedded with a majestic tune (which once celebrated the victory of an English king). It reminds us that whether in the heights or the depths of human experience, we are called to “raise the voice of prayer, the hymn of praise.”
May it be so.
Allleluia. Amen.
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