The Light Gets Through (Transfiguration Sunday B)

 

 Mosaic at the Church of the Transfiguration, Mt. Tabor

The Light Gets Through

Last Sunday of Epiphany (Year B)
15 February 2015; 8 am Spoken Mass; 10 am Sung Mass

Transfiguration Sunday
Homily Delivered at Trinity Episcopal Church

Ashland, Oregon  

2 Kings 2:1-12; Psalm 50:1-6; 2 Corinthians 4:3-6; Mark 9:2-9 

God, take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh. Amen. 

Light and fear: it’s in all the scripture passages today. 

The Gospel sees Jesus shining bright before his closest friends.  The light shining from the face of Jesus overwhelms Peter.  “Let’s build three small shelters commemorating this!” he says.   We shouldn’t hold the odd reaction against him, says the narrator—he was, after all scared out of his wits.

Paul in the Epistle says that people are blinded from seeing the light of the Gospel, the brightness of Christ, because of their lack of trust.  That what the word translated as “unbelievers” means: they lack trust in God.   Again, fear blinds us to the light. 

The Psalm says “Out of Zion, in its beauty, God discloses himself in brilliant light.” Surrounded by a raging storm and a fire devouring everything before it, God’s appearance pulls his people into a courtroom where only God’s Hasidim, can stand.  The word means those devoted to him, the kind ones. Their fear has been overcome by shared trust and commitment:  when the scripture’s shorthand says these gentle ones “have made a covenant with me and sealed it with sacrifice,” this means they have had a relationship of  mutual goodness, promises, and care between them and God, one involving serious self-giving.  Here, love and trust casts out the fear that would have blinded them to the light. 

Elijah goes to Heaven, He Qi 

In the Hebrew scriptures, Elijah gets ready for his last trip before death, or whatever it is that happens to him in the end.  The younger man he has mentored all these years, Elisha, asks to go along for the ride, afraid the old man is going to disappear.  When anyone reminds Elisha that this is after all Elijah’s last trip, Elisha tells them to shut up.  He is afraid to face up to his mentor’s passing.  Elijah is such a powerful prophet.  Elisha’s afraid he won’t measure up and be able to fill the old man’s shoes.   When Elijah gets to Jordan, that symbol of endings, new beginnings, death, and new life, Elisha insists on going on with him, and true to form, Elijah performs one last great marvel.  He takes his coat and smacks the water with it.  It divides it into two, and the two men walk across on dry ground.   “Now I really am leaving,” says Elijah, “What is it you want?”  “Gimme a double!” replies Elisha.  No, he isn’t trying to drown his fears with a double shot of spirits.  Afraid of his own inadequacies, he wants twice as much of whatever it was that made Elijah the prophet he has been.  “Wow! That’s a steep order!  If you face up to reality and actually see what’s coming, you might just get what you ask!”  When the fiery whirlwind comes to take his mentor, Elisha, having to taken to heart his mentor’s encouragement, sees the whole thing and receives Elijah’s cloak: he has indeed grown to fill the shoes left by his legendary mentor. 

Today is the last Sunday after Epiphany before Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent.  It is called transfiguration Sunday, after the Gospel reading.  But all of these texts talk about transformation and transfiguration:  change that we all must undergo if we are to come to love the light and not be blinded by it. 

Where are your blind spots?  What fears lie behind them? 

One of my besetting sins is procrastination.  I took 20 years to finish my doctoral dissertation—but the first 15 of those were wasted with procrastination. I was afraid to write something that might be rejected, or ridiculed, or even barely criticized by my dissertation adviser.   Fear of failure, but more important, fear of success:  actually submitting a draft meant subjecting myself to the process of editing and criticism.  It meant having to revise, having to change, actually stretching myself beyond where I was.  The dissertation had become the unmentionable subject at home.   I realized that if I saw one of my advisers or professors on the street, I would have crossed over to the other side to avoid greeting and having a conversation.  When we moved back into the area and Elena began her master’s degree at the same school, the time was right to put it behind me. Under spiritual direction, I decided to make amends, and straighten this out.  I made appointments to apologize and clear the air.  My adviser, though, surprised me and asked me to resume my work.   If I committed to finishing, he would commit to getting me readmitted and my committee reconstituted.  Here’s the thing—once I started again, it was not about finishing for me.  It was not about writing the perfect dissertation and getting it right on the first draft.  It was about putting in three hours a day and doing one day of library work once a week.  It was about putting in the time and effort, regardless of results.  That way, if I failed, at least I knew that I had given it an honest effort and would not have to go around hiding from topics of discussion or people.  Once I started, it only took four years. 

Procrastination is a sign of fear.  So is distraction, always missing the crucial point and focusing on side issues.  Another sign of fear is anger and control freak tendencies. 

What are the things in your life that make you want to look small so no one will notice you?  Go to the other side of the street?  Avoid someone?  What always pushes your justice button or makes you angry?  Where are your blind spots? 

What do you fear? 

Marianne Williamson, in her book A Return to Love has this to say: 

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Sisters and brothers, know that God loves you and accepts you.  If you have fear, it stems from not accepting this essential fact and accepting   Fear blinds us, makes us crazy, and distorts us.  We become twisted and the world becomes broken. But as Leonard Cohen says in his song “Anthem,”     

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

Loving Jesus is about facing the truth.  It is about losing our fear.  It is about being open to sudden astounding moments of clarity. 

As we prepare for Lent, I invite us to look at the areas where we are blind.  The most direct way is to find what deeply upsets our balance and joy, and then ask what it is in us that makes us so vulnerable here.   This is a practice commonly used in counseling and direction, and taught in Twelve Step Programs.  Jesuits call it an examination of conscience.  Twelve Steppers call it a moral inventory.  It is best done with a friend, a spiritual director, or even a "discreet priest." 

Ask yourself, “what is it about me that causes me to be so upset or undone by this action of others or situation?’  I think that if you ask yourself that question and observe carefully and honestly, you will find that fear it at the heart of most of our problems.   

A simple example might be:  I get over-the-top upset when I run into tech issues with the computer.  What is it about me?  I really rely on the computer to do a lot of things, more than some other people sometimes, and people think I am working harder or longer than I maybe am. I get angry when the computer goes out because I am afraid people will find out how much I use it to appear smarter and more industrious than I actually am.  I am afraid for my social esteem and, perhaps, my job. 

Again: what is it about me that lets this situation set me off? Why does it upset me?  What fear is at the heart of it? 

Letting the light in through the cracks, being open to sudden epiphanies, letting ourselves be changed from glory into glory as we bathe in the light coming from Jesus’ face, all this starts with recognizing our blindness, identifying our fear.  Once we have identified them, it will be time to work to overcome them. 

In the name of Christ, Amen.