Preaching text: Matthew 17:1-9
For much of the course of history and certainly within American culture, the Church has stood as a bastion of the established order. It had stood firm for maintaining the status quo in society and has tenaciously resisted change. It is, fundamentally, a conservative institution: politically, theologically, and socially. It has always striven to keep things “the way we’ve always done it.”
And that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.
And why is that? Because Jesus Christ, the founder of our faith, is fundamentally an agent of change. He comes on the scene and turns everything on its head. We’ve spent the last four weeks looking at one of his most important teachings, namely the sermon on the mount. And what does he do there?
Blessed are all those people that fate has dumped on all their whole lives. The poor, the grieving, those hungry for justice. They are the ones God will bless the most. You have heard the law say this, but I say you must do more than that. Love not just those who love you, but also those who hate you. Don’t strive to avoid sin, since you’ll never succeed at that, but strive instead to love God and serve only him. He’s jumbling up everything. Changing the way we’ve thought about God. Changing the way we are to treat those around us. He is, in parlance of my home state, meddlin’...in everything.
Jesus is a radical, come to make the kingdom of God real for people here on Earth. He calls his disciples to continue that work. We are the light of the world. We are those sent to make disciples of all nations. We are those meant to change the world.
And we have spent the last 1500 years (at least) trying to keep the world the same as it was.
The transfiguration story, in many ways, encapsulates all these dynamics at play. Jesus goes up to the top of a mountain and reveals his glory in its fullness. He transforms from what he is to what he will be. He changes forms. He transfigures. All those are words that denote change and movement, not stagnation and status quo. He shows the future in himself. He gives a preview of the kingdom in himself and it is glorious.
And what do the witnesses decide to do? Peter proposes the construction of a monument to the moment. Let’s remember this. Let’s erect a shrine to this event, so we can come back here one day and remember what happened in the past. They anticipate their future as one that looks backwards on what has come before. Not one that looks forward to what will be.
Boy, if that isn’t a statement about life in the church, I don’t know what is.
How did we get here? Our whole society seems predicated in these times on recapturing some lost golden age. Our new President ran his campaign on the idea of “Make America Great Again,” as if there was some moment where we stopped being great. Nostalgia has become our new idol. We hunger for what once was.
I'm no different. When I turn on the radio, what I want to hear is the music of my heyday, songs from the 80s and 90s. And I spent all day yesterday glued to my computer, playing the remake of Master of Orion, a video game that originally came out in 1993.
The church is certainly no different. With declining budgets and attendance, it’s hard to not pine for days when pews and coffers were both full.
And the future? That looks scary to us. A new world filled with all kinds of different ideas about God and society and politics and people. As technology shrinks our world, we encounter the other more and more than ever before and we become so very tempted to try to shrink back into little enclaves where everyone is just like us. But therein lies the problem. How did we get here? Because WE MADE IT ALL ABOUT US and not about God.
It’s become about our fears and anxieties and not about the kingdom. It’s about our hopes and desires and not about Jesus.
When Peter makes his statement about the booths, one can almost imagine God the Father giving himself a facepalm as he hovers above the mountain, a gesture of frustration that echoes across the generations. We’ve missed the point of the church. The point of the transfiguration. The point of all of this. It’s about changing the world and it always has been.
Jesus never loses sight of what he came to do. As the group the descends the mountain, he tells the disciples very clearly “Don’t talk about this until I have risen from the dead.” Jesus knows darn well where his road leads. He knows what it will take to save this world, to change this world from sinful to graceful. He knows it won’t be pleasant. He knows it won’t be fun. He’s scared to death of it (as evidenced by his prayer in Gethsemane.) But he also knows it’s necessary. It has to be done.
He loves us. He wants to be with us. And he’ll do anything to see that happen, even die on a cross and rise again on the third day.
The real glory of the transfiguration isn’t on the mountain top. It’s in the garden where stone rolls away. It’s not in the moment; it’s in the future. And it’s the same thing for us. Our golden age as the church isn’t in the past or present. It’s in the future. It’s coming with the kingdom of God.
And how do we embrace that future? By remembering who we are and what we’re here to do. God loves us. God loves everyone. And how are they going to know if we don’t tell them? How are they going to know if we don’t show them? It’s like the old joke. “We love to sing Standing on the Promises while sitting on the premises.” Our future’s out there in a world in desperate need of change and transformation. A world that needs God. A world that God loves. Time for us to arrange an introduction and watch as the world and lives change. Amen.
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