Not Building Three Dwellings
Luke 9:28-36
Words and language have always intrigued me. Changes in word
usage and language usually reflect societal changes. This is true even
for numbers which at first glance seem so concrete and exact in their
meaning. For example, before the advent of convenience
stores, the numbers 7 and 11 in sequence evoked no special image for
most people. The numbers 24 and 7 used together didn’t have a special
connotation until fairly recently. Today 24/7 is an
abbreviation for 24 hours a day/7 days a week. It reflects a
society which finds itself filling every minute of every day with
activity. I recently read that the newest term is 24/7/365 to make sure
holidays are included! 9/10 are just two numbers but 9/11 recalls an
event that changed the world forever.
The word “cocoon” is defined by Webster’s Dictionary this way:
“a covering of silk or similar fibrous material spun by the larvae of
moths and other insects as protection for their pupal stage.” In other
words, the cocoon provides a protective home for the pupa. If the
young butterfly doesn't beat its wings to break out of the cocoon to go
out into the world, it will die.
In the 1990s, the word “cocoon” took on a whole new meaning when it
became a verb functioning as a noun — “cocooning.” The online
encyclopedia Wikipedia defines it like this: “Cocooning
is the name given to a trend that sees individuals socializing less and
retreating into their homes more.” That usage doesn't paint a temporary
retreat but rather a more permanent withdrawal from the world.
I’ll come back to this concept in a few minutes.
A long time ago, in the days of the 1928 Book of Common Prayer
and before, Sunday school children were required to learn to spell and
pronounce three difficult words. They were Septuagesima,
Sexagesima and Quinquagesima. They were the big fancy names for
the Sundays that were approximately seventy, sixty and fifty days
before Easter Sunday. Those weeks were called the “Pre-Lenten Season.”
No wonder that Lent seemed to last so long when I was a child!
Now instead of a Pre-Lenten focus, the theme of Epiphany is emphasized
and the Sundays are simply called, for example, the Third Sunday after
the Epiphany or as is the case today — the Last Sunday after the Epiphany.
The gospel stories of the Epiphany season describe various events that
manifest the divinity of Jesus. The gospels of the season take us
on a journey from the coming of the Magi on the Feast of the Epiphany
(January 6) to today’s story of The Transfiguration. In between
are stories of Jesus’ baptism and the miracles and teachings of Jesus.
Each story, in some way, points us to Jesus’ identity as the Son of God.
We have heard the story of The Transfiguration many times. We know that
Jesus took Peter, John and James up on the mountain with him to pray.
We know that as he was praying his appearance — his clothes and his
face — changed and became dazzling white. What struck me when I read
the account this time, was not so much the transfiguration of Jesus and
the presence of Moses and Elijah, and God saying, “This is my Son, my
Chosen; listen to him,” but rather the response of the apostles to
these events.
I began to think about the difference between the words
“transfiguration” and “transformation.” One was identified in this
gospel — transfiguration. The other — transformation — was not,
but it seems to be an important concept in this story.
Throughout the ministry of Jesus, we have seen that the apostles really
don’t “get it.” I sometimes wonder how they can be so
dense, but when I think about it, I realize that we have the advantage
of a post-resurrection viewpoint. We know what’s going to happen
next and how the story is going to end. They don’t. So,
maybe it isn’t so surprising that the apostles react in very human ways
to events that must have been very puzzling to them.
After they witness the Transfiguration up on that mountain, they want
to build three houses to capture the moment and to provide a place for
Moses, Elijah and Jesus. But Peter doesn't know what he is
saying; he is unable to see how this story is going to play out.
He simply can’t see the path ahead and he certainly doesn't understand
his own part in all of it.
It seems to me that Peter is thinking about “cocooning” long before it
is a word. To give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he wants
to build three dwellings to honor Moses, Elijah and Jesus. Maybe
he means “shrines” when he uses the word “dwellings.” But maybe
Peter senses what is to come in a vague sort of way. Maybe he just has
a gut feeling that coming down from this mountain won’t be so
great. Maybe he wants to stop time, to retreat with Jesus, to
avoid the road to Jerusalem and to cocoon instead. Maybe he is
afraid of the unknown.
I know I feel that way when life gets difficult or complicated. I
sometimes want to stop time. I don’t know about you but sometimes I
want to retreat into a safe cocoon. I’m afraid of that road to
Jerusalem. It would be so much easier if I could just read about
it instead of living it! But God didn’t say to the apostles and
he doesn't say to us, “Build your houses and hide out in them until it
is safe to come out.” Instead he says, “This is my Son, my
Chosen; listen to him.” And when we listen, we hear him say, in
all kinds of ways, “Love One Another,” and “Go out into the world as a
servant.”
Jesus was transfigured; he wasn’t transformed. His appearance
changed but he was still just who he was and is — the Son of God. I
believe the light was there and is here to provide a glimpse of the
promise of the resurrection and to guide us on our sometimes difficult
journey. I don’t think the light of the Transfiguration promises
to eliminate all the darkness we encounter, but I believe it promises
to always be there to guide us on the journey, no matter how difficult
or how lonely it turns out to be.
The apostles didn’t build those “houses” that day when Jesus was
transfigured. Instead, they went down from the mountain with
Jesus. Like us, they did practice some mental “cocooning” in the
days to come. In fact, they all deserted Jesus when the going got
tough. They retreated from the kingdom on earth — maybe because
they didn’t recognize it and they were afraid. They were neither
transfigured nor transformed in one magical moment on the
mountain. But we know they stayed awake for a little while on
that mountain; the fog lifted from their hearts and minds for just a
little bit. In that split second, they were able to see the
transfiguration of Jesus and they were able to hear God’s voice.
And they made the commitment to follow Jesus down the mountain even
though they didn’t know where they were going and they didn’t know what
the journey would bring. They didn’t know the cost of the trip
for Jesus nor for themselves, and yet they followed Him. They
took that great big risk.
And that is what is asked of each of us. God asks us to break out of
our cocooning patterns so we may have new life. He asks us to
listen to Jesus and to follow him even at the times we would prefer to
hide out in a safe place.
There is lots of Good News in this story. The Good News that
gives hope to me slowly unfolded after this particular event was
over. Although the apostles sought the safety of cocooning
behavior in the days and weeks to come, they did break out of those
patterns eventually — before the butterfly died. None of them lived
perfect lives nor exercised perfect ministries, but at times they were
transfigured and bit by bit they were transformed. They did learn
to listen to Jesus — perhaps not in his human lifetime and certainly
not perfectly, but they did learn. Like Moses, the skin of their faces
eventually appeared to shine to those whose lives they touched. And
they were transformed.
And so it is with us. We hide in our cocooning patterns. We
struggle as we beat our wings in our houses that have grown too small
for us. We often fall short of really listening to our Lord. We
sometimes flounder as we try to work together in community.
Thoughts of 24/7 and 9/11 crowd out the good news. We feel very
far from being transfigured so the light of Christ can shine through
us. We sometimes feel that transformation is just a dream that
may happen for others but not us.
And yet, the Good News shines through those gospel words. It
doesn't change as the language of our society changes. It is
there for each one of us, steady and sure. And as we dare to come
down from the mountain, and as we dare to come out of our houses, the
cocoons we have built, God’s Holy Spirit will walk with us and guide
us. We will be transfigured and transformed, a little bit at a time.
Amen.
The Rev. Betsy Porter
February 18, 2007
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