2020.02.23 | Transfigured by Grace

Today’s text describes a mountaintop experience known as “the Transfiguration.” This was the occasion when Jesus and some of his closest friends slipped away from the City of Jerusalem for a short retreat, as opposition against his ministry began to grow. 

To modern audiences the Transfiguration story probably seems a bit “woo-woo.” Imagine the scene: a high mountain outside of Jerusalem, where three Hebrew prophets (Moses, Elijah, and Jesus) appear together. Peter, one of the leading disciples, is awed by the experience and offers to make three booths: one for Jesus, one for Moses, and another for Elijah. Then a cloud overshadows the group, and a voice says, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” 

When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus touched them and said, “Don’t be afraid. Get up.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself.

As Jesus and the disciples were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about the vision they had seen until after the Son of Man had been raised from the dead.

The disciples were awed by the whole experience. It took them a while to collect themselves. Once they did, they realized that nothing would ever be the same again.

II

The Transfiguration scene described in Matthew 17 is bit on the woowoo side, for several reasons. One, because of the ethereal setting with the fog and all. Two, because of the “rock-star” type personalities whom the disciples met up with, who were three of the greatest Hebrew prophets who ever lived. And, three, these rock stars were not contemporaries. Moses had lived 2000 years earlier, and Elijah lived about 1200 years earlier. 

Those who bring their brains to Bible study will be relieved to know that most biblical scholars do not describe the Transfiguration as an historical event. Instead, they see it as a literary and theological device used by Matthew (Mark and Luke) to underscore that Jesus was one of the Major Hebrew Prophets, and that he was Messiah, the one for whom Israel had been waiting.

While I agree with the argument that the Transfiguration serves as a literary and theological device, I also see it as an attempt to describe a spiritual experience that the disciples had, which literary theory and scientific methods can never fully capture. 

The Transfiguration describes an occasion when the fog literally and figuratively lifted for Jesus and his disciples, so that they could gain clarity about their mission and purpose, even though the way ahead was clouded with uncertainty and fraught with danger. 

II

I wonder. Have you ever been in a similar spot? Have you ever faced uncertainty or adversity? Have you ever been fogged in, unclear of how to proceed, or stressed out by challenges that lay ahead like Jesus and his first followers?  

I sure have. I’ll start with a literal example. 

As most of you know, I was born and raised in the flat lands of Iowa. Mountain top experiences were rare in my youth, but they did exist. I remember, for example, the summer between 8th and 9th grade, when our pastor loaded up all 12 members of our high school youth group in his new Ford EconoLine van and drove us straight down I-80, and then north along the Maine coast, so we could learn more about our US and Congregational history.

Our parents dropped us off in Pastor John’s driveway at OMG o’clock, one July morning and from then for the next 14-days we were “one big happy family,” sort of, riding to New England and back. In the course of that trip, we saw the Adirondack and Appalachian Mountains, Mount Desert in Acadia National Park, and many historic sites associated with the American Revolution and Congregational history.

One of the most memorable parts of the trip involved our ascent up Cadillac Mountain on Mount Desert island in Acadia National Park.  When we started the trip, the sun was shining and the skies were blue. The road up the mountain, though curvy and narrow, was passable. But the higher we climbed, the cloudier and foggier the conditions became, and the curvier the switchbacks.  

As the driving conditions deteriorated, no one had to tell us kids to be quiet and help watch the road. We did that instinctually.

There were no shoulders on either side of the road, so there was nowhere to pull off the road until conditions got better. Stopping in our tracks wasn’t an option either, because we could have easily been rear-ended by another driver.

So our pastor and I (who rode “shotgun”) cracked our windows, listened for the sound of approaching vehicles, and kept an eye on the edge of the road. And, eventually, through a team effort, a slow but steady pace, and the good driving skills of our pastor, we made it safely to the base of Cadillac Mountain again, and out of the fog.

No doubt, you have had similar harrowing experiences driving in bad weather. Perhaps you can think of metaphorical experiences that were equally harrowing.  

A few examples that come to mind for me include these: 1) the days and weeks following my father’s death in 1975; 2) the day back in 1989, when my boss asked me point blank if I were lesbian; and 3) Lent 1995 when a member of my congregation sent a very creepy death threat against me to every member of the Church Council. 

I won’t go into all the gory details about these examples from my life, but instead ask you to search your personal histories and identify times when you were confronted with a particular challenge and you were pressed to summon your courage and discern how to proceed. 

How did you cope? How did you get your bearings? How did you proceed? Did you have a plan? Did you creep and crawl, like our pastor and youth group, or did you careen down the mountain like an Olympic bobsledder, holding tight to your sled, and praying to God that you wouldn’t be smashed into bits? 

IV

Sometimes, feeling our way in the dark or holding on to our sled as tight as possible is the best we can do. And at other times, we actually have a chance, like Jesus did in today’s gospel reading, to go on retreat, ground ourselves, and put a strategy together for how we will navigate the unknown. 

If we get that opportunity to retreat, like Jesus did, I suggest that we take a lesson from the Transfiguration story. I suggest that we gather up those who are nearest and dearest to us, that we ground ourselves in the wisdom of our ancient prophets, that we study and emulate the values and practices of these trusted wise ones, and that we pursue the visions that they have instilled in our heads and heart. 

To be sure, these forebearers may not have experienced what we experience, now or in the future, but their examples can serve as orienteering tools for us as we forge ahead into new territory that is unknown to us and that may even be uncharted by others. 

To do so, we need to ask ourselves, who were these ancient biblical prophets, and who of them speaks most clearly to the situation that we are encountering. Who were Moses, Elijah, and Jesus? Who were they speaking to? What was their message? 

Moses—led the Hebrew people out of bondage in slavery 

Elijah—challenged the Hebrew leaders to get right with God by forgoing their worship of Baal (foreign idols)

Jesus—challenged the Hebrew leaders to get right with God by carrying for the most vulnerable: the poor, widows, orphans, the sick and infirmed, and strangers and aliens in your midst.

Which prophets' message is most salient, depends on your particular context. 

Moses—the prophet of the oppressed

Elijah—prophet to the hedonists, the 1%

Jesus—prophet to the privileged (those who have enough, the married, those with parents, those with legal residence)

We might be modern day prophets for us?

One individual was Jack Reed. The other was Eleanor Sekerak. 

When I began serving at Eden over 17 years ago, some of the younger leaders, when faced with a challenge, would simply say: “WWJD = what would Jack do?” They would literally ask Jack what to do and do it. After his death, they would talk about “channeling Jack” for guidance in how to move forward. 

Eleanor Sekerak, who was a contemporary of Jack’s, is famous for serving more terms as moderator than any other. If Eleanor were alive today, she would be more than a century old.

I’ve been thinking about Eleanor this week, because February 19 was the 78th anniversary of President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s decision to authorize the internment of 110,000  US citizens of Japanese descent. Eleanor served as a teacher at the internment camps in Topaz, Utah.  

A couple years before she died, I asked Eleanor to share a bit about her spiritual journey during a Lenten adult education series. The assignment I gave her was to reflect on her spiritual journey and tell us a little about her experiences of teaching at a Japanese internment camp outside of Topaz, Utah during World War II.

Eleanor told us about growing up in Oakland, participating in her Episcopal church, attending a magnet school where she became friends with students of Japanese descent.

These friendships and related experiences provided a good background for a call that Eleanor would later receive from the Dean of her university, Cal Berkeley. The Dean called and asked her if she would consider taking a position at a Japanese internment camp. He didn’t try to dress up the invitation. The Dean explained that she would be serving in a concentration camp, and that the conditions would be abysmal. Eleanor accepted without hesitation.

During her first weekend at the camp, Eleanor remembered a breakfast conversation at the teachers’ table in which she and her peers were discussing plans for their first weekend at the camp. When Eleanor was asked what she was looking forward to, she said that she planned to attend worship the next day.

Her answer surprised one of her colleagues, who went on to explain that there was only one worship service held at Topaz, and that it was led and participated in solely by the “inmates.” “Surely,” he asked, “you’re not thinking of worshipping with the ‘Japs?’”

Eleanor did not hesitate with her reply. She said that she had heard the preacher before in the East Bay, that he was quite good, and that she was looking forward to worshiping with the inmates. Eleanor’s polite, but rather bold statement shocked everyone at the table—everyone, that was, except a man named Emil Sekerak, who piped up and said, “I’m going too.” 

Many of us know the rest of the story about Emil and Eleanor Sekerak, how they later married, took jobs, and raised their family in Hayward. But it’s also important to step back, see how their willingness to enter into relationships with individuals of differing ethnic and religious cultures has transformed their lives, the lives of their students, and ultimately the life of this congregation.

One example of the impact that Eleanor and Emil have had on Eden Church is revealed in the leadership that they have given to our congregation. I asked Eleanor how many times she and Emil had been moderators, and what years they served. Eleanor looked away for a bit, then shook her head, and turned back to me and said, “I don’t know, four or five. I don’t remember the years—whenever there was a fight.”

Eleanor’s example of service and courage in the face of racial and religious prejudice inspires us all to explore ways that we can get our spiritual houses in order and make more room for others, especially for those who are oppressed.

One of the accounts that I recall Eleanor sharing with me was about how the teachers in the camp emphasized studies with their students as a way to take their minds off of the harsh realities of camp life, and as a way to prepare them for their re-entry into American society after the war. 

Eleanor and Emil and the other teachers knew that many of the interred people’s businesses and homes back in California were being ruined by their internment, and that the only way they could survive economically (after the war) would be if their children could get into trade schools and colleges, and get decent jobs in their racist homeland.

Eleanor went on to tell me about how she and Emil dedicated more than two years of their lives after the war to helping each student in their care get on with their lives in a productive manner. For more information about Eleanor and Emil, and life in Topaz, see  http://topazcamp.org/

V

I imagine that each of us has our own harrowing stories about significant challenges that we have faced, and our own prophets, ancient and modern, who may serve as inspiration and guides as we forge our way boldly into the future. When we name them, ground ourselves, and use their values, principles, and practices to guide us, we are transfigured by grace, the fog lifts, we are changed, we find our way, and God is glorified. Amen.