A Glimpse of Glory

February 11th, 2024
Last Epiphany; Transfiguration Sunday
2 Kings 2: 1-12
Psalm 150: 1-6
Mark 9: 2-9

Mark 9:2-9
Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.
As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

Homily by Rev. Megan Limburg

Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight,
O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Each time Tim and I make a trip to Michigan to see his brother Peter and his wife Paula, we always find ourselves saying, within a few hours of arriving

“I am so glad we came for this visit. It is exactly the time we need to be here.” 

Somehow, or maybe better known as God’s grace, we are in Lansing at the right time. This visit, Peter had a PET scan scheduled for 5pm one late afternoon, and we could help by taking him to that and waiting for him, giving his wife and daughter a break from the many appointments. 

But even more, God’s grace is in the conversations and meals and stories and laughter we share and treasure together, time we all need.

Peter is taking a very new medication, so new his oncologist really can’t tell him what to expect. The medication makes Peter very tired and is hard on his stomach, but so far it is much better than chemo.

The weather in Lansing was not bad, compared to 2 weeks before when it was snowing, and the wind chill was -20; we felt very fortunate! Except for some freezing fog one morning, we did well.

We left for home very early on Wednesday morning, stopping for gas and hot coffee, and then heading east and south.

The sun was not up yet, but there was light on the horizon, and layers of clouds creating glorious colors.

We could not stop commenting on the beauty of this sunrise! The scene was changing and growing as the sun rose and the clouds moved, even exposing enough sky to see the sliver of the setting moon, among the glory of the growing light.

The clouds created striking oranges and pinks and we could see the light in its glory, but we were not overwhelmed or blinded by it, as east facing sunrises can do.

We were grateful for the filtered light, which we needed, especially after such a full and emotional week, and grateful for the beauty too.

This experience of a muted and glorious sunrise as we headed home turned my mind to this Sunday, the last in Epiphany, and it is Transfiguration Sunday.

On the brink of Lent, beginning this Wednesday, we always receive this gift of Transfiguration Sunday.

Jesus and his friends are heading now to Jerusalem, the tension higher, the danger greater, the hopes and fears deeper, but all is paused for a moment away today, on the mountain top.

Our text tells us that:

“Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves.”

They needed a moment apart with Jesus, before going forward on their journey.

And in that moment Jesus is transfigured, transformed, changed, fully seen in the dazzling, blinding light and glory as the Son of God, and too with the prophets, Elijah and Moses, and they are chatting!

It is too much for Peter and he blurts out his first thought, contain this! Our first so human response to the overwhelming presence of God, is to box it up, control it!

And as the text tells us Peter did not know what to say, as he and the others were terrified, panicked.

If you have ever blathered on when nervous or scared, you know how Peter felt.

The full glory of God is overwhelming, for we only understand and can see a tiny glimmer, a tiny bit, of God’s love, God’s grace, God’s mercy in this lifetime. So, to see Jesus in his glory, and the prophets, Peter can only blather.

Which brings me back to that sunrise as Tim and I drove east, away from Lansing.

Transfiguration cannot be an everyday activity. We humans cannot bear it. The full light of God is blinding and overwhelming.

But we can see the beauty and glimpse better the mercy, when the light is muted by clouds, by trees, or even more, when that brilliant light is reflected.

Which brings me to another sunrise we saw the next morning, in Pennsylvania! Again, an early start in the half light. Now driving in the mountains. As we drove around the curves and up and over the peaks, we moved between the dark shadows and the brilliant light of the rising sun. This morning there were far fewer clouds and quickly the sun was up, and we pulled out sunglasses, and shaded our eyes from the brilliance of the unfiltered light!

As we dove back into the shadow around a curve, and I could see again for a few seconds, I marveled at the reflected light of the sun on the tops of the trees above us, the light outlining each bare branch.

And I thought again of you all and of Transfiguration Sunday.

We best see God’s light, not in the blessing we cannot bear, but in each other. We are like those bare branched trees, each molecule of us outlined and bathed in the reflected light of God.

We each have the capacity to carry, to bear God’s reflected light in us.
We are in fact, called as Christians to do so.

We are not the light, but like the trees, we reflect the light when we show mercy, when we offer love, when we share the grace of our God.

So, as we prepare for Ash Wednesday, may we remember today the blinding light of Jesus transfigured, as witnessed for us by Peter, James, and John, and then prepare for our days ahead, driving east and bearing the reflected light to all who dwell in darkness.     Amen.