To build up the body of Christ, God has gifted the saints with a great diversity of skills. “Some would be apostles, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers,” to quote Ephesians. But in God’s great creative generosity, the gift giving did not end there. In addition to those gifts one might classify as vocational, it seems God has bestowed upon us many other, more subtle gifts that refine and color our personalities. For example, some may have the gift of vision or insight, that ability to inspire direction in a group, others my be adept at keeping calm in unsettling circumstances. Some may have been gifted with a quick wit, able to inject a dose of humor when its needed. It is these more subtle gifts, I think, that add the spice, if you will, to congregational life, friendships, and marriages.
I, for one, will be forever grateful to God for giving my wife the gift of being a good listener. And I wish I could say that naturally offer a patient ear to her, but, my tendency is to jump right into troubleshooting mode and offer solutions to whatever issue it is she’s working on. If we clarify the problem and think up a solution then all’s well, right? I even think I give good advice. But advice isn’t always what’s needed. Sometimes offering an ear is enough—or even preferable. You see what I mean about these subtle gifts, or lack thereof, adding spice to relationships.
It’s a selfish comfort, after hearing today’s gospel, to know that I’m not the only one who was made more of a troubleshooter than a listener when God was handing out the gifts. It seems the same was true for Peter, that paragon of an apostle, the rock, no less, upon which the great institution of the Christian church was built. No, Peter just couldn’t resist throwing in his two cents.
Luke tells us that Peter, James and John follow Jesus high up on to a mountaintop where they behold a dazzling sight. The Church celebrates this event, known as the transfiguration, today. Through this mystical encounter, the three disciples come closer to understanding that Jesus is more than their earthly companion. He is none other than the messiah, as foretold by the great prophets of old, Moses and Elijah. These two also make a ghostly, magical appearance and speak with Jesus as if to validate his holy lineage.
One can imagine Peter, James, and John lying there in the bushes, mouths agape as they witness this spectacle—their beloved teacher shining like the sun, and apparitions of long dead spiritual greats mere feet from their faces. What is one to do or say? Well, either James and John put him up to it or he acted on his own, but Peter gets up and does what any good problem-solver does when confronted with the unknown: try to intellectualize the problem, and somehow make sense of the senseless. “Lord, ahem, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” As if to say, quite literally, let’s contain this bewildering, heavenly event and bring it back to earth, here, where it is more familiar. And just as Peter tries to take charge, a voice from a bright cloud above puts him in his place. “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
It’s not that Peter gets it wrong here, he’s just reacting out of that very human impulse to reach for understanding. Us problem-solvers want to “do something” with what we see and hear. Peter wants to bring this overwhelming vision playing out before him down to his level of comprehension.
This is precisely where we stumble upon a fascinating tension encoded in the DNA of the Church. This tension between allowing and encouraging the Spirit to blow where it will, however unfamiliar and scary—and the desire to keep things orderly, comfortable, and contained. But, it may be that this tension is actually vital to the institution’s success and survival. The Church aspires toward the heavenly ideal. We pray that “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” and yet we exist in a world that can only digest heaven in glimpses. Maybe that’s why Jesus appointed Peter as its head—a passionate believer in the transformative power of God, but an imperfect, impatient human through and through.
And thus the Good News in this tale of the transfiguration. We will encounter things in this life that scare us. We will witness and experience things we did not bargain for when we took our baptismal vows and signed on to this wild Christian ride. We will love. We will grieve. We will jump for joy. We will wander in doubt. And if we’re like Peter, our impulse will be to tame, understand, and explain it all. But sometimes, maybe we don’t have to. Maybe we’re not meant to provide explanations for the Spirit’s work. Maybe, as that voice from the cloud reminded Peter, sometimes we’re meant only to listen.
I think it’s fair to say that these past few months have offered an encounter with the unknown for many people here at St. Alban’s. After a faithful pastorate, Mark has been called to serve another church. Clergy transitions, like other experiences of change are unsettling, and us problem-solvers want to build processes and checklists so we can get through these times as smoothly, and as quickly as possible. Believe me, I know. It’s what I do for a living. Yet, in many ways, transitions are transfigurations. This particular Body of Christ is being transfigured. The Spirit is at work tugging at St. Alban’s, nudging it this direction and that, waking it up to new, previously unimagined possibilities for mission and ministry on the Arkansas Prairie.
We will find a new vicar. We will get that process going. But, in the mean time, listen. Say prayers together. Share in the mystery of Christ’s sacraments. And do not be afraid. In Matthew’s version of the transfiguration story, the disciples were overcome with fear at the sight of Christ’s transfiguration, and they fell to the ground. Then Jesus came and touched them, easing their worries. When they looked up they saw no one except Jesus himself, alone. It’s the same here. During this time of transition, when we look up in faith, we’ll realize Jesus has been before us all along.
The Feast of the Transfiguration