Mark 9:2-13 · The Transfiguration
On Not Knowing What to Say
Mark 9:2-13
Sermon
by Donald B. Strobe
Loading...

It is said that a good secretary is one who often “covers” for the boss, and makes the boss look good when the boss does something stupid.  Hence, St. Mark, the secretary to St. Peter, tells us that Peter’s dumb remarks on the occasion of Jesus’ transfiguration were caused by fear.  But Mark’s report of this incident reinforces Peter’s reputation for only opening his mouth to change feet.  As Halford Luccock says in the Interpreter’s Bible: “This was not a particularly bright remark of Peter’s and Mark apologizes for him on the ground that being afraid he did not know what to say.” (Halford E.  Luccock, The Interpreter’s Bible,Vol. 7, p. 776 New York and Nashville: Abingdon-Cokesbury Press, 1951.)

HAVE YOU EVER SAID THE WRONG THING AT THE WRONG TIME? 

I have.  I’ve said a lot of dumb things in my many years in the ministry.  I’ve said things which I wanted to come out one way, but in the pressure of the moment they came out another.  Many years ago in a service of worship the following scenario transpired: I came to a high moment of commitment and dedication, and I wanted the congregation to make an altar within their hearts and kneel there for a time of commitment.  And so I said to the congregation, “Let us all bow our heads in prayer, while the organ plays silently....” The organist sat there with fingers poised over the keyboard, wondering what to do.... 

I have said some dumb things over the years.  Therefore, I can sympathize with Peter on the occasion described in our Scripture.  I can also sympathize with whoever it was who said, commenting on our text for the morning, “Blessed are they who, when they do not know what to say, refrain from saying it.”

I.  PETER “DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO SAY, FOR THEY WERE EXCEEDINGLY AFRAID.” (v. 6) says St.  Mark. 

I can’t blame Peter much.  I imagine if I had the same kind of vision he had, I, too, would be afraid.  And after the vision faded, I might well want to return to the same place to see if I could recapture the rapture of it all. 

Mark tells us that Jesus took Peter, James, and John with him to a “high mountain” to be apart from the crowds for a time of refreshment. 

If you visit the Holy Land, guides may point to Mt.  Tabor in the middle of the plain of Megiddo as the site of the Transfiguration of Jesus.  The Eastern Church actually calls the Festival of the Transfiguration the Taborion.  It may be that the choice of Mt.  Tabor was based on the mention of it in Psalm 89:12.   But the designation is probably wrong.  Mark says that this happened close upon Peter’s confession at Caesarea Philippi.  Tabor is in the south of Galilee, and Caesarea Philippi is away to the north.  Tabor is not a “high mountain” but only around 1000 feet high, and in the time of Jesus, there was a fortress on the top.  It is much more likely that this event occurred on Mt. Hermon to the north, over 9000 feet high.  There, the solitude would be more complete. 

To the ancient Hebrew mind, there was something mystical about mountaintops.  Such places were associated with God’s dwelling place.  The cosmology of the Bible was that of ancient times, which saw the earth as a flat plain floating on a bed of water and protected from more water overhead by a dome-shaped firmament, or sky.  Beyond the firmament and the water it held back was heaven and the throne of God.  With that ancient three-storied view of the universe, it was only natural that mountaintops would achieve mystical significance.  We recall that the Law was given to Moses atop Mt. Sinai. 

Immediately following the unveiling of the idea of the Suffering Messiah by Jesus, follows the vision of the Transfiguration.  Here we come face to face with an incident that is cloaked in deep mystery.  We can only try to understand what happened.  Who can tell exactly what Peter and the others experienced on the mountaintop that day?  We are not competent to judge, any more than we are competent to judge the ways in which God manifests Himself to any of the others of us.  We are not all cut out with the same cookie cutter and each of us will have a religious experience that is different from everyone else.  We may not experience God in some magnificent manifestation on a mountain-top, but as the “still, small voice” within, as others of God’s people have done.  God has “different strokes for different folks,” as we like to say.  The question is: what do we do about it? 

Peter, in a sudden burst of inspiration, had hailed Jesus as God’s Messiah, the Christ...only to discover to his horror that Jesus’ notion of what Messiah meant ran counter to everything he had always believed.  Rather than involving immediate glory, it meant suffering, rejection, and death...in a word, the cross.  For a week or more Peter brooded on this improbable combination: Suffering/Messiah.  How could that be?  The whole thing sounded like a contradiction in terms.  How could the crucified Jesus be God’s Messiah? 

Then Jesus takes His three best students up into a mountain, where a religious experience reinforces Jesus’ ministry and mission.  He is seen in a glorified state, involved in a three-way conversation with Moses and Elijah: two of the greatest personalities of His people.  Moses, perhaps representing the lawgiver; and Elijah, the prophets.  Does this demonstrate that Jesus is the final culmination of both the Law and the Prophets?  Probably so. 

Note the mention of the voice out of the cloud.  In Jewish thought the presence of God is regularly connected with a cloud.  The cloud, or “Shekinah” - was the age-old symbol of the Divine Presence in the Bible.  It was in the cloud that Moses saw God.  A cloud led God’s people through the wilderness.  It was a cloud which filled the Temple when it was dedicated after Solomon built it.  This helps us to understand the meaning of the “Ascension”- when Jesus was “received up into a cloud” (Acts 2:9).  This doesn’t mean that Jesus was the first astronaut shooting off into the heavens, but that Jesus was taken up into the nearer presence of God.  The cloud in today’s Scripture was a Hebraic way of saying that in Jesus the Messiah had come, and every Jew in the first century would have understood it that way. 

On the mountaintop, Peter experiences an overwhelming sense of what theologians call the Mysterium Tremendum.  And the voice from the cloud reaffirms Jesus and solves Peter’s doubts forever. 

II.PETER HAD A BRIGHT IDEA: “LET’S STAY HERE AND BUILD.”

It is a common reaction.  One can think of a number of areas in which Peter’s idea has captured us.  I think it is a tragedy when people stop and build upon one period in their religious thinking.  There are those whose understanding of God has never progressed beyond the “now I lay me down to sleep” stage.  Conversely, there are those who have rejected religion in their early years because of some unfortunate experience with a religious figure - pastor, priest, or Sunday School teacher.  They put the freeze on their own personal spiritual history at that moment.  Their minds are closed to the possibility of an adult faith.  There are those whose understanding of the Bible has never grown beyond the notion that it is something like a Chinese fortune-cookie, a magic talisman which can be cracked open anywhere to reveal God’s word for the day.  In our social and political realm we have been guilty sometimes.  We all like things “the way they were,” not realizing that God may be calling us upward and outward toward something newer and better.  “Let’s stop and stay here awhile,” we say. 

You’ve seen the ads on television: a group of friends sitting around a campfire.  A clean, clear mountain stream is rushing by.  A skillet filled with fish.  A tub filled with “Old Milwaukee.” And one of the friends says to the others, “Fellows, it doesn’t get any better than this!” (I am indebted to Roland Perdue of First Presbyterian Church in Birmingham for reminding me of this, and the closing illustration.  Master Sermon Series, Cathedral Publishers, 8/85, p.  361) We have all had those kinds of experiences. 

Everything is “just right.” It seems as though it simply cannot get any better.  We have a good experience in our religious life, and we want to hang onto it.  The problem is that if we stop here, we won’t grow much.  And we will be totally useless in meeting the problems of life. 

It is tempting to try to make the church a safe haven where we might find seclusion from the storms of life.  But we aren’t supposed to stay in the church.  We come to worship to get our spiritual batteries recharged, but then we are called to return to the fray.  The vision fades, the moment moves on.  And so must we.  We live on the move.  And our faith tells us that God is on the move, also.  The Biblical God is a God on the move...not a God who is stationed in one place.  In some ways, I think God is like a Methodist preacher: an itinerant who doesn’t stay in one place forever. 

Moments of high religious ecstasy are important, just as moments of intense emotion are important in a marriage, but you can’t build a marriage upon them alone.  Or a faith, either.  Our Scripture would say to us:  “Don’t forget those moments; but don’t freeze them, either!” The desire of Peter to nail down the moment, to put the freeze on history, to make a permanent structure to which he could return when his faith is tried, is natural.  We all need that.  I don’t deny it.  But we cannot stop in our spiritual journey and erect a frozen monument to a fading vision or past glory.  The Biblical God calls us forward into the future.  He calls us down from the mountain to meet the problems of the marketplace.  One pastor writes: “That’s the way these encounters with the Presence are.  One moment we are enthralled with this Mystery we call God, and we’re lifted high above all the common confusion of life; and the next moment we are thrust back into the everyday qualities of humanness.  It’s a little like coming to church and being surprised and uplifted by an inspiring moment of wonder and worship only to return to your car in the parking lot and discover that the battery is dead.  The world refuses to go away.” (D.  Wayne Burkette, Pulpit Digest, Jan/Feb.  1986, p.  28)

Ernest Hemingway’s posthumously published book, A Movable Feast, (Scribner, 1964) is an autobiographical retracing of the author’s early days as a writer in Paris.  The title of his manuscript, which had been finished for years awaiting the right moment for publication, was suggested by Hemingway himself in 1950.  In a letter to a friend, Hemingway wrote, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”

Well, I don’t know about Paris...but the presence of God is a moveable feast.  That is what Peter forgot, for a moment.  He forgot that by going down from the mountaintop, he was not leaving God behind.  When we leave the sanctuary this morning, we are not leaving God behind and going out into a totally alien world.  God goes with us.  In fact, God is probably out there ahead of us.  I am always amused by those who tell us that by governmental action, God is either being taken out or put into our schools, or government, or wherever.  But God cannot be pushed out of anywhere.  God is everywhere.  Peter was to find that God awaited him on the downside of the mountain in the persons in need, who needed him, who needed someone with a vision and a hope to share.  So does our world. 

III.  THIS IS MY BELOVED SON, LISTEN TO HIM!” said the voice from the cloud. (Mark 9:7)

The Greek word “listen” here is a very strong word.  It means, literally, “to obey and follow.” And that’s the way it is with any true encounter with God.  Each encounter leaves us turned around and headed back down the mountain with a tablet under our arm (like Moses), or a call to discipleship (like Peter, James, and John.) God does not give us spiritual trips away from the real world; God has a tendency to thrust us back into the thick of it.  But we don’t go back into the frustrating fray of life alone.  We have the vision to sustain us.  “This is my beloved Son; listen to him.” (Mark 9:7)

I can think of no better advice.  Would that the Church had heeded it over the centuries.  Perhaps we would not have used religion to support war, greed, hatred, prejudice, racial and religious bigotry, child labor, and capital punishment.  In 1706, Jonathan Swift observed that “we have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love, one another.” Mike Royko, in a column a few years ago said: “Lately I’ve been hearing from many people who keep saying that God has instructed them to go to war, or chop somebody’s head off, of pluck out an eye.  From now on, anybody telling me what God wants or doesn’t want will be required to produce a signed affidavit from Him.  Also, I will accept no visions.” Well, I agree with most of what Mike Royko said, but I think that we do need visions.  However, we also need some way to measure whether the visions are real or fake.  How can we tell that we have a genuine inspiration from God, or a hallucination from our own fevered imaginations...or worse, yet, from the demonic powers of the universe?  I have only one answer: Judge them by the yardstick of Jesus. 

“This is my beloved Son...listen to Him.” It is as though God were saying to Peter: “Heaven can wait....” but earth cannot.  There are needs to be met at the foot of the mountain.  We cannot stay on the mountaintop forever, for there are people who need us below in the marketplace.  (Next week’s sermon will continue the story, and talk about what Peter and the disciples found when they went back down into the valley.) There is a world out there desperately in need of a vision of God, or the touch of someone who has had a vision of God and wants to share it.  You see, our Christian Service is not what we do here in the sanctuary, but what we do in the world.  Our word “liturgy” comes from a Greek word which means, literally, “the work of the people,” and does not merely refer to what we do here in church, but what we do out in the world.  Sometimes that work is less than glamorous.  However, we cannot stay in the church forever, safely protected from the world around us. 

A few years ago, when the late Dr.  Jitsuo Morikawa was installed as pastor of First Baptist Church, our neighbor congregation next door, the local newspaper was supposed to announce “The Installation of Dr.  Morikawa.” It appeared in print: “The ‘INSULATION’ of Dr.  Morikawa.” I sent a copy of the fascinating typo to the Christian Century for Martin Marty’s column, with the note that “I always thought Jitsuo was pretty much a live-wire...but I guess he’s properly insulated now!” I was just kidding...for during his brief years here in Ann Arbor Dr. Morikawa accomplished many wonderful things for God.  Many of us desire “insulation” rather than “installation.” Nevertheless, God calls us into the real world outside the church...the world that is filled with squabbles, complaints, pettiness, and pain…but also grand and glorious opportunities to touch the lives of others in the world with the love with which God has touched our lives in worship. 

When Dr.  Elizabeth Kubler-Ross was doing research on her famous book on death and dying, she came across the story of a black woman who was a member of one hospital’s maintenance crew.  The woman spent her day cleaning floors, emptying wastebaskets, tidying up.  The hospital staff began to notice that each time she finished cleaning the room of a dying patient, that person was invariably more content, happier, and at peace.  Dr.  Kubler-Ross interviewed her to find out why.  The woman said that she had known a lot of fear and tragedy in her life, as well as good times when others helped her know of God’s love.  She’d been up and she’d been down the mountain.  The worst time was when her three-year-old son was ill with pneumonia.  She brought him to the public health clinic and he died in her arms while she waited her turn.   All of this could have embittered her, but she said to Kubler-Ross, “You see, doctor, the dying patients are just like old acquaintances to me, and I’m not afraid to touch them, to talk with them, or to offer them hope.” They promoted her at the hospital.  She became, and still is, “Special Counselor to the Dying.” (Perdue, op.  cit., pp.  364-365)

“Special Counselor to the Dying.” Aren’t we all?  We cannot stay on top of the mountain.  There are lives to be touched down there in the valley.  Go and touch them with the touch of Jesus. 

Dynamic Preaching, Collected Words, by Donald B. Strobe