Sermon: 22nd February 2009

Preached at Sunnyside.

Reading: Mark 9:2-9

We acknowledge the reality of life as it is, and live with the hope and promise of a resurrected life with Jesus.

In the early 1990s I took my young daughter to a funeral for a man who had been a member of my church, and who had that happy knack of being friends with everyone.

As a result the church was packed, including many children of all ages, all of whom had asked to be there. I had known him as an elderly man, who lived in the local warden-assisted flats, drove a mobility scooter and walked with sticks, and all I knew about him was that he was the father-in-law of the vicar, and a lovely person.

Imagine my surprise to learn about his life, to discover that he spoke mandarin Chinese and had been a missionary in China, that he had lost both legs, hence his difficulty in walking, and had lived a life of adventure and service to God.

The stories kept on coming and by the end of the service I looked at his life in a completely different light.

That’s quite a common experience at funerals, as we think we know someone, and then we find out something that broadens and enriches our ideas completely.

It’s unlikely to be as dramatic as today’s story though, which tells us about one of those times when people who thought they knew Jesus, suddenly saw him in a different light.

Marks’ gospel starts with the sentence, “The beginning of the gospel about Jesus Christ, the Son of God”. It tells us the topic of the whole gospel, but as we read we have to remember that the people in the stories didn’t know that sentence. They didn’t know they were part of the story of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. They had to work out who Jesus was as they went through the experience of knowing him and learning to trust him. They learned to live with the reality of life, but they carried the hope that they might see the Messiah.

In Chapter 8:29 Peter has already answered the question, "Who do you say I am?" with, "You are the Christ.’ So Peter had an idea about Jesus. He saw him as the anointed one, the Messiah, but Peter didn’t really understand what that meant.

In Mark’s gospel God’s presence has already broken through at Jesus’ baptism, with the words, “"You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased." But other people didn’t see that. This time Jesus and three of his disciples have climbed a mountain, and the divine breaks through again. This time they all heard the words, “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!”

I’d like you to stop and think for a moment. What would it be like to be there with Peter and James and John, and to see Jesus transfigured, and to hear the voice of God. Would we feel the same sense of inadequacy that the disciples felt. We’re told that they did not know what to say, they were so frightened. What would you feel? What would you say? What would you do?

Peter, wanted to stay in the glory moment, to stay on the mountain with Moses, Elijah and Jesus. But the mountain moments of all our lives are a temporary respite from reality. This one was too. It connected Jesus’ baptism, and the glory of the resurrection. It was a significant marker in the story of our salvation; in the story of God’s plan to save all of humanity, including us.

But they had to come down from the mountain. Jesus had to move forwards to Gethsemane and the cross in order to earn our salvation. The glory of that moment of transfiguration is brighter and lighter and somehow more poignant in our imagination because we know that the worst is yet to come in this story. The glory of the transfiguration contrasts with the darkness of the cross, the despair to come, and the hope to follow.

We too can have our mountain moments – those times when we see things in a new and positive way; when we see Jesus reflected in people in ways that we didn’t expect. It can be tempting, like Peter, to want to stay there, to leave the world outside that experience behind – to shelter with the saints. Sometimes holidays are like that aren’t they? We have such a good time that we imagine spending the rest of our lives living like that.

But it isn’t permanent. We have to come home, to pick up the threads of our daily lives and continue. Peter, James and John were given a glimpse of the present – the present that they couldn’t normally see. They were given a glimpse of the future promise. And they were told, “Listen to him”. And then they had to come back, down the mountain, and pick up their lives, just as we do.

But when we do that, we also acknowledge the reality of life as we live it today, with all the difficulties and problems, the sadness and pain and guilt that we carry, as well as the hope and promise of forgiveness and new life in Jesus.

Acknowledging that reality isn’t just about our own lives. It is about acknowledging that other people need our help; to bring help and justice, to work to make a difference. It is about realising that, no matter how wonderful we think our lives are today, how excited we are by the promise of a shared life with Jesus, or conversely how much we fear and worry about our own futures, this isn’t just about us.

This story is about the hope and promise of a resurrected life with Jesus, it is about acknowledging Jesus in the reality of our lives. But if all it does is make us smug then we’ve missed the point.

Jesus taught us to value everyone, to care for others, to look out for each other. Jesus singled out the downtrodden, the insignificant and the marginalised. "This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!"

Jesus used examples of people on the margins of society to demonstrate that God’s kingdom is for everyone, but just for ‘people like us’. And he asked us to be the difference in those lives. "This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!"

That’s quite a challenge. In order to pick up on it I think we need to remember the transfiguration – to do what the disciples did and keep that memory in our minds – the moment when God broke through and spoke to men, and showed his glory. We need that memory so that when we think about our own and other people’s experience of the cross, our own and other people’s times of trial and testing, we can keep our hope alive.

We do well to remember that it wasn’t just the disciples who came back down the mountain. Jesus came too, and willingly continued his journey, to Gethsemane, the cross and beyond. His love for his disciples, and his love for us, was demonstrated by his willingness to weave his life into ours, to share with us our burdens and sorrows, and our sins.

Without the love and hope that Jesus brings to our lives we have only our humanity and our problems.

With Jesus, we acknowledge the reality of our lives today, and we do it in the full and certain knowledge of Christ’s presence with us, and in the excitement and anticipation of the hope of glory to come. "This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!"