As we continue to experience the Word of the Lord together, Let us Pray. We come with reverence to praise and adore you, O God. You have given your beloved Son for our salvation, and made the nations his inheritance, the ends of the earth his possession. You call us to be part of your household, and therein to partake of your promise. We gather as your people, attentive to your word and ready to do your bidding. If these words are not Your Word, may they be forgotten and come to naught. But if they be Thy Word, may they adhere to our hearts, forever transforming us from glory into glory, into the creatures you would have us be, Thou who art our Rock and Redeemer, Amen.

The Lectionary is one of the more interesting things in the church today. For those of you who don’t know what it is, the Lectionary is a 3 year cycle of Biblical readings that are suggestions upon which to preach and order a worship service around. It is not a Presbyterian thing, it is not even a protestant thing, the Lectionary crosses the boundaries into all denominations, from Presbyterians to Greek Orthodox to Catholic, to Baptist, to non-denominational, the lectionary is an offered suggestion, sometimes slightly altered by different denominations, but mostly quite similar, as to what to order the worship around that particular day. Every Sunday, we read at least two of the lectionary readings. Often I’ll preach from the lectionary, and often I will jump off, and preach something different, maybe a series, or maybe just a particular sermon. There are pastors who preach exclusively from the lectionary, as there are pastors who disregard it and don’t use it at all. I try to provide a good balance of lectionary and non-lectionary based sermons and worship services. Anyway, all of that is to say that this sermon puts me back on the lectionary, sort of. The lectionary sometimes misses the lines right. Like in Luke 15, the story of the Prodigal Son. The lectionary completely cuts out the older brother, where the story takes on much of its edge. Today, the lectionary makes a bad choice, I think. It wants us to begin at chapter 17, verse 1, and go through verse 9. Which is odd. Verse 1 starts with the phrase, “and then, 6 days later…” Why wouldn’t we want to know what happened or what was said 6 days ago? We need to know. It is at least interesting, for in the last verse of chapter 16, Jesus tells his disciples, “I tell you the truth, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.” And then we get this astounding happening 6 days later, which I think is precisely what Jesus was talking about. He didn’t mean, as was thought at the time, and as has been misread ever since, that the second coming would happen in that generation. I think he meant that the Transfiguration was coming, that Golgatha was coming, and that there were opportunities to see the coming of the Son of Man in the glory of his kingdom right around the corner.

And the portion that the lectionary gives us instead is verse 9, where it reads, “As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus instructed them, “‘Don’t tell anyone what you have seen, until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.’” Which is fine, but not necessary to today’s sermon. So, with all of that said about the lectionary, hear now The Word of the Lord as it comes to us in the gospel of Matthew. Listen. Matthew 16.28-17.8. The Word of the Lord…Thanks be to God.

Scholars often debate historical authenticity in the gospels. “Did that really happen?” is a question they often ponder. But when it comes to the transfiguration, the general consensus is that it must have happened because the story is too bizarre to believe that someone made it up. The theory is that the story is so odd, not the least of which is Peter’s strangely blurted out suggestion about building three shelters, that it must be true. That’s so crazy its got to be true. Great logic, huh? In fact, there have been several other recorded instances, both ancient and modern, of similar things happening, when people have been very close to God in joyful prayer.

People often suggest that Jesus was shining so brightly because he was divine, and this was a vision of his divinity, which would have otherwise been hidden in his humanity. But in the gospel of Luke, chapter 9 verses 28 – 36, you can find this same event. And in verse 31, Luke writes that Elijah and Moses were also shining brightly. We don’t think that they are divine, so that can’t be it. Add to that, just 5 chapters ahead of our passage in Matthew 13.43, Jesus says that all people would shine like stars in God’s kingdom. And, for the New Testament writers and Jesus in particular, being human is in itself a glorious thing. Side note, how is it that we have made being human into a vulgar thing, one in which we must fight our nature to be close to the Creator who made us like this. There is a sermon there, but for another day perhaps. Anyway, Jesus’ perfect humanity provides the model for the glory which all his people will one day share. If you want to see Jesus’ divinity, however, you must look at a different mountain. If you’re looking for Jesus’ divinity, look to his suffering and shameful death. If that seems puzzling, it’s a puzzle the first Christians insisted we should live with.

In fact, the scene at the transfiguration offers a strange parallel and contrast to the crucifixion which you can find in Matthew 27.33-54. If you’re going to consider one, you might like to hold the other in your mind as well, as a sort of a backdrop. In the one, you have Jesus on a mountain revealed in glory. In the other you have Jesus on a hillside, revealed in shame. In this week’s lectionary text, his clothes are shining and white, there, in a few weeks, they have been bloodied, stripped off, and soldiers have gambled for them. In today’s story, he is flanked by Moses and Elijah, two of the Old Testament’s greatest heroes, representing law, uprightness, and the prophets; later he is flanked by two criminals, representing the level to which humans sink in rebellion against God. Today a bright cloud is over the scene; there a darkness overcomes the land. Today Peter blurts out how wonderful it all is; there Peter hides in shame after denying he even knows Jesus. And note who declares that Jesus is the Son of God. Here is it none other than God, declaring this as the wonderful Son. There, a pagan soldier declares, perhaps in surprise, that this was really God’s Son.

The mountain top explains the hill top, and vice versa. We only fully understand either of them when we see them side by side with the other. Learn to see the glory in the cross; learn to see the cross in the glory; then you will have begun to bring together the laughter and the tears of the God who hides in the cloud, the God who is to be known in the peculiar person of Jesus himself. Both stories, side by side, are about being surprised by the power, love, and beauty of God. We should learn to recognize that same power, love, and beauty within Jesus, because he is God who is highly exalted and God who creates peace through suffering love.

We would do well to remember that this is the Jesus who tells us to take up the cross and follow him. As we do, there will be stops on the mountain top, in which we see the brilliant glory, power, love and beauty of God. Maybe we even get to participate in the glory, power, love and beauty of God. But let us make no mistake, we are not called to stay on those mountain-tops. We are called to go further, to the hill-side, where there is glory in sacrifice and peace through suffering love. May we have the wisdom to enjoy the mountain-tops, but to travel further with Jesus, to follow him all the way to the hill-sides, so that we may experience the glory, power, love and beauty of God most fully. Amen.