Last Sunday after Epiphany, Feb. 14th
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2 Kings 2: 1–12 Mark 9: 2–9 |
| Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your Name. |
| In the face of some high holy epiphany – like the chariot of fire that swept Elijah from this earth into the heavens – or the transfiguration of Jesus before his terrified disciples on the mountain – I have to confess I have little to say by way of explanation, little to add. God comes to us as He chooses, not the other way around, and we’re hard put to explain his ways. So in the face of some sudden manifestation of God’s glory and holiness I can only point toward the mystery. I can only point toward the beautiful presence of the holy and living God. But I can’t begin to explain that holiness. |
And yet, there’s a human element in both of these stories that
touches me and draws me in. And that is simply the kindness, the
faithfulness that teacher and student, Lord and disciple, show one
another in both of these stories, one from the Old Testament, the
other from the New. In the story of Elijah and Elisha, when Elisha
begins to suspect that his master will soon be taken from him, he
refuses to leave Elijah’s side, though the old prophet does
everything he can to slip away and go off by himself. I’m
reminded of the passage in The Lord of the Rings, when Frodo tries
to persuade Sam to go back home to the Shire to safety.
“Go back, Sam. I’m going to Mordor alone!” “Of course, you are,” answers Sam, “and I’m coming with you!” He plunges into the river over his head and almost drowns before Frodo pulls him into the boat. Once he catches his breath, Sam explains, “I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. ‘Don’t you leave him, Samwise Gangee,’ they told me, — and I don’t mean to now.” |
| That kind of faithfulness, that kind of loyalty and love, in Hebrew is called chesed. Often, that word is translated ‘mercy’ or ‘loving kindness’, and usually it refers to God’s faithful love for us. But literally it means “holding onto one another”, and when we see it working between human beings we’re touched and awed, realizing we are seeing something Godly, something holy, right in the midst of our ordinary human lives. That, I think, is what touches me about Elisha’s devotion to Elijah on the day of his death. It’s a human manifestation of God’s steadfast love, a human example of “I will never leave you or forsake you.” And Elijah returns the love when, in response to Elisha’s devotion, he asks, “What may I do for you?” He’s about to meet his Maker, but he’s still caring for his younger protégé. |
| We see a similar connection, a similar display of loving kindness between Jesus and the three disciples he chooses to accompany him as he climbs Mount Tabor to pray. Usually, Jesus goes off to pray alone. But this time he asks Peter, James and John to accompany him – and it isn’t because they’ve distinguished themselves by their spiritual maturity. Over and over again, all the way through Mark’s Gospel these three disciples confuse personal greatness with the greatness of humble service. They think they’re ready to take the lead. They think they’re ready to rule and reign. But it isn’t a spirit of loving kindness, a spirit of mutual service, that motivates them. Even so, Jesus holds on to them. He sees something of value in them, and he believes that one day they will do better. |
| Clearly, though, when they are together on the mountain top, that day has not yet arrived. Their only response to seeing Jesus transfigured before them, to seeing Elijah and Moses speaking to Jesus about his impending death, to hearing God’s voice — is one of confusion and terror. Yet Jesus doesn’t scold them for failing to appreciate the epiphany they have been allowed to witness. He doesn’t even correct them. He only points toward the future when the Son of Man will rise from the dead. And presumably, they will too. |
| And when they do, it won’t take a chariot of fire descending from the heavens or a vision of Jesus lit up from within to catch their attention. When they finally perceive God’s loving kindness all around them – in the creation, in seemingly ordinary people all around them, in situations that aren’t at all what they’ve expected – it’s their own lives that will be transfigured. |
The contemplative monk Thomas Merton once described his own
life–changing experience – not on some mountain top, but in
an ordinary American city on an ordinary afternoon.
“In Louisville,” he writes, “at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I was theirs. It was like waking from a dream of separateness to take your place as a member of the human race. If only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.” |
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What he is describing is seeing people through God’s eyes, with
God’s kind of love — a steadfast love that will not let the
other go. And I believe that way of seeing each other, that way of
belonging to each other is possible for all of us. My life is part
of your life and your life is part of mine, because both at our baptism '
and our confirmation we made a covenant with God to love and serve each
other as if we were serving Christ himself. And when we decide,
when we agree to see that holiness in one another and walk together in
that faith, we build his kingdom in this community together. To God be the glory. |
| Happy Valentine’s day. |
Amen. |
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