Matthew 17:1-9
All
good things must come to an end. When I was a kid, I hated hearing those words
because they usually meant that the fun was about to end. I remember hearing
them when we had spent the evening at someone else’s home, at a dinner party or
just a party-party. While the adults would talk, we kids would play games. If
it was nice outside, we would play out in the yard. If the weather was
different, you could find us playing games in another room away from the
grown-ups. It always seemed that we had reached the pinnacle of whatever game
we were playing, and then we would hear, “Well folks, all good things must come
to an end.”
One of the adults
would have looked at the clock, and realized that it was getting late. It was a
school night or a church night. Folks had to go work the next day. The kids needed
to get to bed. The morning was going to be here quicker than we realized, and
none of us would be ready for it if we didn’t wrap up the fun and fellowship
and go home. The transition from a relaxed evening to the real world was in
process. The signal was given. The message was clear. It was time to leave. It
was time to say goodbye. All good things must come to an end.
But why? I don’t say
that petulantly. I am just asking the question. Why must all good things come
to an end? Now, I do know that life is
not made up of just happy moments. I know that happiness is fleeting, and that
putting too much of an emphasis on happiness can be actually be detrimental to
our emotional, physical and spiritual selves. The cynic in me says that anyone
who wants the good times and the good things to go on and on and on is living
in a fantasy land. That kind of life is reserved strictly for fairy tales. It’s
not real. The real world is what it is. And we all must dwell in it.
Maybe that is what
Peter wanted to do up on that mountaintop. Maybe Peter recognized Jesus’
transfiguration as a good thing, as a lovely moment and he, like an early
Energizer Bunny, just wanted it to keep going and going and going. That has
been a predominant interpretation of Peter’s actions when he was faced with
Jesus’ transfiguration; his glorious shining up on that high hill. Peter saw
his dazzling rabbi and wanted it to last. Along with this traditional interpretation
comes the traditional head shake and tsk tsking at Peter’s impetuousness,
rashness and his misunderstanding of who Jesus truly was and what Jesus was
truly there to do. I’ve certainly interpreted this story this way, and I’ve
done my share of head shaking and finger wagging at Peter. I relate to Peter. I
identify with Peter, so it is easy for me to say, “Oh Peter. I understand what
you wanted to have happen; but sweetie, you just did not get it.”
Yet I wonder if
Peter got it a little bit more than we give him credit for. I’m not saying that
he fully understood Jesus’ identity or the fullness of his ministry, teaching
and work. It’s clear that Peter, along with the other disciples, did not get
that. I don’t think that Peter clearly comprehended what he was seeing either.
I do identify with Peter, and I know that I would not have understood the
events on that mountaintop. I can’t even claim that I fully understand it now,
from the perspective of someone who knows the “rest of the story.”
But I do not
believe that Peter was entirely clueless. As I have pointed out in just about
every Transfiguration sermon I’ve ever preached, this passage begins with the
words, “Six days later.” Six days before this moment on top of the mountain,
Jesus asked Peter and the other disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter
responded with a profession of faith. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the
living God.”
Jesus responded by
telling Peter that he was correct. He was blessed. But Jesus didn’t stop there.
He also went on to tell them that being the Messiah, the Son of the living God
meant that he would suffer and die and rise again. Peter, being Peter, pulled
Jesus to the side and told him to stop saying things like that. He was scaring
the others. Jesus rebuked him. “Get behind me, Satan.”
Whatever Peter did
or didn’t get, I cannot imagine that the memory of what happened six days
earlier had left him by the time they reached the top of the mountain. And even
if Peter did not fully understand what it meant to be Messiah or that God would
choose to come into the world and suffer, he did live in a time when empires
ruled the world. He lived in a time when opposition to the powers that be had
dire consequences. He lived in a time when being willing to speak truth to that
power, and stick your neck out for what you believed in, often meant that you
had your head handed back to you on a silver platter.
Maybe Peter
believed Jesus when he said that he would suffer and die. Maybe Peter
understood that if Jesus didn’t stop or at least curtail what he was doing and
saying, that he could wind up really suffering and really
dying. Peter did not grasp the full reality of Jesus – as human and as divine.
But surely he had the ability to imagine the trouble Jesus might land in, so
perhaps wanting to build those booths or tabernacles was not just a way of
staying in that glorious moment, it was also a way to keep Jesus safe.
There on that
mountain, Jesus was safe. Peter and James and John were safe. There on that
mountain, they were somewhat out of the range of the empire. There was no one
for Jesus to anger or offend with the truth that he spoke. If they stayed on
that mountain, if they refused to descend to the world below, then the
consequences of Jesus’ words and actions could not catch up with him. Maybe
Peter just wanted to keep his beloved rabbi safe.
However as one
commentator put it, “We cannot keep God safe.”
Six days earlier,
Peter could not listen to Jesus’ words about suffering and dying. Six days
later, this was still true. Peter jumped in with a plan, but he was
interrupted. He was interrupted by God’s voice from the heavens.
“This is my Son,
the Beloved, with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
Listen to him!
Peter could not
keep Jesus safe. He could not keep him up on that mountain. The world below
waited for them. But here is a detail of Matthew’s telling of this story that I
have not paid much attention to before; at the sound of God’s voice the
disciples fell to the ground in fear. But Jesus came to them and touched
them. He laid his hands upon them and told them, “Get up and do not be
afraid.”
Jesus touched
them. Jesus was not any different after the transfiguration than he was before.
Whatever happened in that moment of shining glory was not so much about Jesus
changing into something he was not, as it was about revealing the fullness of
who he already was. He may not have been shining anymore, but all of that glory
was still there. It was still him. All of that glory was in his touch. Jesus
touched them and said, “Get up and do not be afraid.”
David Lose wrote
that the message to “fear not” is the gospel. It is the gospel. It is the
message that is repeated over and over again. Do not be afraid. Jesus refused
to stay safe. He refused to stay on that mountain where no harm would come to
him. He refused to avoid his necessary descent into the world below, and he
would not let the disciples avoid it either. But I cannot help but believe that
in his touch was some of the glory that had been shining out him only moments
before. I cannot help but believe that in that touch, the disciples received
renewed courage to face the world below. In that moment Jesus touched them and
spoke the good news of the gospel.
“Do not be
afraid.”
We are part of the
Church, part of Christ’s body in the world. There are no mountaintops where we
can stay safe, secluded and shut off from the pain and brokenness of the world
below. We are called to be in that world, as surely as Jesus intentionally went
back down that mountain and walked the path to the cross. And Jesus’ words to
the disciples are the words we are given as well. “Get up, and do not be
afraid.”
Hear this good
news. Hear this gospel. “Get up, and do not be afraid.”
Let all of God’s
children say, “Alleluia!” Amen.
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