Sermon Transcript: March 2, 2025
Well, as I promised, we are no longer in chapter 7 of Luke’s gospel. In fact, we’re skipping right over chapter 8 to read the story of Jesus and his excursion up the mountain with three of his disciples.
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.
For the Word of God in scripture,
for the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.
***
I was about 14 or 15, and we were hiking among the Blue Ridge Mountains in Shenandoah National Park in Virginia when our leader called us together at the foot of the notorious Old Rag Mountain.
We had a choice to make—over or around. He explained that the path over the mountain was extremely challenging, but the views were breathtaking. It was up to us. One group would take the safer route and go around, and those who were up for it—or thought they were—would navigate over Old Rag.
I chose the adventure—up the mountain.
A few miles in, I regretted my decision. The rocky terrain and narrow ledges were more than I had bargained for. There were portions where it became necessary to remove your backpack in order to squeeze through. And if you’ve ever been backpack hiking, you know that taking your backpack on and off again is not something you want to do.
So it was all getting to be a bit much for me, and our leader—perhaps feeling bad that he had not done a better job of warning us—took pity on me. And during a particularly difficult passage, he took my pack, along with his own, and carried them so that I could get a bit of a break.
Eventually, we made it to the top, and suddenly it all seemed worth it. The views were spectacular. We stayed there a while to take it all in.
Eventually, though, we had to go down and meet up with the rest of our group. This was before we carried phones with cameras in our pockets. So those of us who went to the top did our best to describe the view to the rest of the group. We used words like beautiful and breathtaking.
Now, Luke doesn’t tell us if Jesus gave Peter, James, and John a choice or not—if some of the disciples chose to stay back, or if they were simply just not invited. But Luke is clear that the disciples do not relay their mountaintop experience to anyone. They are speechless.
Of course, what Peter and James and John saw was more than a spectacular view. They saw Jesus change in appearance right before them. And then they saw Moses and Elijah with him. And if all of that was not spectacular enough, they also heard a voice from the clouds say, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him.” We call this Jesus’ transfiguration.
But it is more than simply Jesus’ appearance that changes as a result of this interaction, of this excursion. I think of it as a peek behind the veil—a glimpse of something more, something mysterious, something inexplicable. It was certainly an experience to be remembered and cherished. And indeed, Peter wants to set up camp so that they can stay a while and soak it all in.
But apparently, that is not to be.
And we know that to be true, don’t we? Such experiences—should we be lucky enough to have them—are impossible to maintain forever. The truth is that we can’t create or control them. And we can’t do as Peter was trying to do. We can’t hold on to them. But they can hold on to us.
I imagine that in the days and weeks ahead, Peter and James and John reflected back on that experience as things got harder and harder—as Jesus was confronted, as he was arrested, as he was tried and executed. Not that it gave them any firm answers or certainty, mind you—just that it was that reminder that sometimes, there’s more going on than we can see or sense.
Those that study the human brain will tell you that we collect much more information than we use. Hundreds, thousands, even millions of stimuli are filtered out every moment so that we’re not overwhelmed and inundated.
Whatever happened up there on that mountain, it showed Peter and James and John—and us—that our perception of reality is just that. Our perception.
When we look at the world around us, we only ever see in part. We rarely see the microscopic world of atoms and cells and microorganisms. But we also miss the big picture a lot of the time, too. Or we just simply take it for granted. And we don’t really get to know how everything fits together—or even if it does. But we do have a choice. Amid all the chaos, amid all the news that crosses our feeds, and all that we have to deal with in our daily lives, we don’t always get to choose what we see— But we do get to choose how we see what we see.
In her book, Between Two Kingdoms, Suleika Jaouad writes, “You have to shift from gloom and doom and focus instead on what you love. Sometimes that’s all you can do in the face of these things. Love the people around you. Love the life that you have.” She writes, “I can think of no more powerful response to life’s sorrow than loving.”
Friends, when we come to this table, we too get a glimpse behind the veil. We see what the world can be—when we sit together in mutuality. When we share our blessings instead of hoarding them. When we respect each voice and each opinion rather than talk over them, bully them, or ignore them. Simply put—when we choose love.
Because here, we are reminded that we are all guests. We are all guests at a table of grace.
And we are all kin in the kingdom of God. So let us gather once again at this table, that we may be refreshed for the journey of faith—
With its challenges.
With its blessings.
And everything in between.
Amen.
