In the name of God- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Have
you ever had an experience of the Divine? A moment where you were aware of God’s
presence as certain as you were of your own existence? Today’s Gospel passage
from Mark records one such Divine encounter, known as the Transfiguration,
though, I’ve yet to meet anyone whose experience has been quite that robust. Perhaps
you’ve had such an experience through prayer. Though, in full disclosure,
prayer has not yet led to such a Divine rendezvous for me. It’s important to
notice that these encounters with God in Scripture never come about as the
result of any incantation or as the result of human action. Abraham wasn’t
expecting a child in his old age, Moses did not expect to find a burning bush,
Mary did not plan her pregnancy, and Paul did not deserve to meet the risen
Jesus on the road to Damascus.
I’m currently reading a
wonderful book called An Altar in the
World, written by the Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor. In it, she
writes of the ways in which we might encounter the Divine, if we only take the
time to take off our shoes and notice what surrounds us. She writes, “We let
life be a blur with the speedometer, watch, smartphone, and to-do list which
feed the illusion that life is manageable.” She then notes that most of us live
as if we could be gods- able to accomplish anything if we were given the ability
to do more things faster. She invites her readers to slow down, realize that
they are not gods, nor are they called to be, and worship at the many and
various altars that are in our world.
When
I asked “have you had an experience of the Divine?” did something come to mind?
If so, spend some time reflecting upon that experience. What were you doing?
What emotions did that experience evoke? What did you do as a result of that
encounter? And if you can’t recall an experience that you would classify as an “experience
of God” then you might ponder the questions “could I have had such an experience
but didn’t pay attention,” “am I eating blackberries in front of burning bushes
without noticing,” “is my life too loud and fast to be able to hear the still
small voice of God”?
As
a way of considering how an encounter with God might be experienced, I’d like
to consider a phrase from a class work in theology, The Idea of the Holy by Rudolf Otto. In this work, he uses a Latin
phrase to describe the Divine- mysterium
tremendum et fascinans, which means “the awesome and fascinating mystery.”
As
we see in today’s reading, an encounter with God is a mystery. One theologian
has said that God will always be a mystery to us because “God is very, very
big, and we are oh so very, very small.” The text from Mark says of Peter at
this Divine encounter that “He did not know what to say.” There was a saying in
the early Church, which still applies today- “if you think you have God figured
out, then what you have figured out is not God.”
Because
God is a mystery, we need time to reflect upon our encounters with God. Peter
had no idea how to respond, and he didn’t take any time to consider what
happened to him before he blurted out “uh, Jesus, this is wonderful, I think we
need to build some sort of chapel to encapsulate this experience.” But as we
all know, you cannot encapsulate God any more than you can capture sunshine in
a jar. Given the mysteriousness of God, events such as the Transfiguration are
blessings to behold. We cannot rise to understand God on God’s terms, so God
comes to us on ours in the person of Jesus. Christianity, therefore, is a
revealed religion- meaning that it something that comes from God, not something
conceived of by humanity.
No
sunset, however beautiful, will equal the glory of God in Christ; no solitary
walk in the woods will get you to the know the joys of Easter. For the past six
weeks we have been in the Season after Epiphany, the season of the Church Year
in which we consider the epiphanies, the appearances, of God in our world. Unfortunately,
Christianity is not always practiced a revealed religion.
There
was an article in the Los Angeles Times
last month about a 2013 Duke study that concluded that children raised in a
secular household instead of a religious one were less susceptible to racism
and peer-pressure, and children raised without a religious upbringing are less
vengeful, less nationalistic, less militaristic, less authoritarian, while
being more discerning and more tolerant.
Obviously, I’m not planning to use that article in advertising our Sunday
School programs. But the question that was on my mind after reading this was “what
sort of religion leads to this?”
And
the answer is not a religion that is revealed by a loving and compassionate God
who cares about justice and peace. But a religion built around sermons that are
full of self-help or Prosperity Gospel themes will lead to those findings. A
religion that doesn’t call us to care for the poor, be stewards of the earth,
or practice humility will likely be more harmful than no religion at all. The
ethics and worldview of Christianity found in many American churches today
would not be recognizable to those who saw Jesus transfigured on that
mountaintop. We seem to be better at defining religion than practicing it.
But,
in general, we’re not all that comfortable with mystery. When I was in
Washington, sometimes it felt like half of the congregation worked for
think-tanks whose charge was to solve the world’s problems. With Google, it
seems that there is no question that can’t be answered with a smartphone and 15
seconds of spare time. We have insurance policies which protect from the
unexpected and have contingency plans for everything. And I’m not saying that
being prepared is a bad thing- but when was the last time we allowed ourselves
to be surprised? One of the things I so enjoy about being the father of a
two-year old is watching the way Ellie can see wonder that I cannot. She can be
surprised by a light turning off when you flip the switch and entertained with nothing
but her imagination. Children know how to encounter the Divine because they
know how to embrace mystery instead of trying to explain it. Perhaps that is
why Jesus said “you will never enter the Kingdom unless you become like a
child.” God is a mystery to embrace, not a problem to solve. And when we allow
ourselves to be surprised, we just might see that every bush is afire with God.
Next,
Otto says that God is “awesome,” that is awe or fear inspiring. In Scripture,
often when God speaks on the mountaintop, people experience an earthquake. An
experience of God shakes our foundations. Mark records that those with Jesus
were “terrified” at this experience. When we encounter God, we are overcome
with the grandeur and majesty of the aforementioned mystery. A true encounter
with God is humbling, reminding us of our place in the universe, namely that
God is God and we are not. It has been said that if you have an experience of
God and nothing changes, then it wasn’t really an experience of God. Part of
what it means to meet God is being transformed. Those on the mountaintop saw a
light brighter and whiter than anything that could be conceived. Knowing that
such a pure light exists, how could they not have seen the world differently?
And
lastly, Otto says, God is fascinating. St. Augustine said “Our hearts are
restless, O God, until they rest in thee.” While biologists will tell you that
humans have a few basic needs: food, shelter, clothing, therapists will add
acceptance to that list. No matter how rugged the individual, we are social
creatures who have an innate need for love. We’ve gotten to be pretty good at
building thick skins that protect us from the evils of the world, but we all
know that true joy is found not through conquest, wealth, or fame, but through
being known and loved.
Though John 3:16 is often
misused to exclude people who are not seen as being “one of us,” I think what
has so drawn us to quoting that verse more than any other is the fact that it
begins with “God so loves the world.” God fascinates us and draws us closer
through experiences of the Divine because in God, we find the Bread of Life
which nourishes our souls.
An
experience of God is a mystery, awe-inspiring, and enticing. In the Celtic
tradition, they often speak of thin places; places where the door between
heaven and earth is cracked open. If we are able to slow down, pay attention,
and summon up enough courage, we can walk through that door into the light of
God. That is what the Transfiguration is about, encountering the Divine on
earth as it is in heaven.
Where
will you find God today? When you see the bush aflame, can you make the time to
take off your shoes and stay a while, or will you need to hurry past and get
back to that appointment? When Luis León was here to preach at the Celebration
of New Ministry, he gave me some advice in the sermon. He told me to “Take time
for reflection, because no one is going to give you that time unless you take
it.” That’s good advice, not just for me, but for all of us. The holy season of
Lent begins on Wednesday, and this might be a good Lenten practice- spend time
looking for the bushes that are afire with God. Reflect on them, and let them transform
you.
There
is a prayer form that I’m experimenting with right now called the Ignatian
Examen, and I commend it to you. It is a simple, five step process: 1) Breathe
deeply and ask for God’s presence; 2) Review the day with gratitude; 3) Pay
attention to your emotions; 4) Choose one aspect of your examination of the
day, and pray with it; and 5) look forward to tomorrow. It takes just a few
moments to do, but it helps us to see those bushes that are afire with God,
allowing us to go deeper in the mystery of God, being transformed by our
encounters with God.
Let
us pray- O God, make us ever mindful of your abiding presence with and around us.
May these Divine encounters deepen our faith, inspire us to action, and move us
to the joy of knowing that we are deeply loved by you. We ask this in the name
of Jesus Christ, who is the epiphany of your grace and peace among us. Amen.
