- Sermon - Mickey Anders

Text: Matthew 17:1-9

I was in the fourth grade when our family made our first trip to California to visit relatives. It was the first time I had left the flatlands of South Arkansas. So when we got to the Rockies, we had to stop to inspect the mountains closer. I remember climbing the edge of a mountain and trying to run back down it. Wow! I could run fast down a mountain. Faster and faster I ran, but, of course, I got to the point where my legs couldn't keep up with my speed, and I dove head first crashing down the hill. I suffered from the scrapes and bruises all the way to California and back. And I learned a big lesson: You shouldn't try to run down mountains.

Mountains play a prominent role in many stories in the Bible.

Mt. Ararat - The mountain or mountains where Noah's ark came to rest.

Mt. Moriah - The site of Abraham's intended sacrifice, and the mountain on which the Temple of Jerusalem was built.

Mt. Horeb - Most likely synonymous with Sinai. It was the scene of the burning bush, of the giving of the Law, and of Elijah's vision.

Mt. Sinai - The mountain where the Israelites encamped for nearly a year, and where the Law was given to Moses.

Mt. Pisgah - The headland of the Nebo range from which Moses saw the Promised Land.

Mt. Carmel - The scene of Elijah's sacrifice.

Mt. Zion - The eastern hill of Jerusalem.

The Psalmist must have loved the mountains. Psalm 121 is a wonderful example of the way the mountains can lead our thoughts to God.

"I lift up my eyes to the hills-

from where will my help come?

My help comes from the Lord,

who made heaven and earth.

Mountains are a popular metaphor for many of life's most significant moments. In 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke in support of the striking sanitation workers in Memphis the day before he was assassinated. He ended his speech with these famous words:

"And then I got to Memphis. And some began to say the threats, or talk about the threats that were out. What would happen to me from some of our sick white brothers? Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord."

Our Scripture passage tells us that Jesus knew about mountains and apparently liked to climb them. The Gospel of Matthew has Jesus beginning and ending his ministry on the mountains. In Matthew 4:8-9, the Scripture says, "the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor, and he said to him, 'All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.'"

The end of the Gospel has Jesus again on a mountain when he said to the disciples, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."

In between these two events, Jesus is often found going to the mountains, sometimes alone to pray, sometimes with the disciples. On this occasion, he took with him the inner circle of the Disciples, Peter James and John. I wonder how many times these disciples had followed Jesus up a mountain. So the disciples must not have thought much about this trip. It was just another of Jesus' journey's to the mountain.

Jesus must have loved the mountains simply because they are places of great beauty. There's nothing quite like the wonder of the mountains shrouded with the wisp of a cloud, bedecked with the flowers of spring, or splashed with the color of fall. And a snowfall in the flatlands pales beside the majesty of the mountains covered with a bright blanket of snow. Such beauty cannot help but remind any serious minded person of the amazing creativity of God.

The mountains naturally lead a person to worship because they point heavenward. Almost every church has a steeple for the same purpose. They draw our eyes from our mundane surroundings toward the wonder of the skies. They remind us of the things from above.

Too many times we allow our eyes to focus only on the ground in front of us. We stumble through life trying not to step on the cracks of the sidewalk, worried about old wives tales and the minutia of daily life. But the steeples and the mountains remind us to raise our eyes to the horizon and above. To lift our thoughts to the source of our strength.

Sometimes I think prayer is like climbing a mountain. It is hard work. It begins slowly as we exert our energy to climb the mountain, but slowly we find ourselves rising above it all. We rise above the river fog that has settled in the valley. We rise above the traffic and the housetops, and we enter the still beauty of the heights. But we continue to labor. Finally, we may get an occasional glimpse of the magnificent vistas below us.

Until finally, we arrive at the very top of the mountain. From there we can see forever. From the mountaintop we can look down on the rest of life. There it seems that we are in the very presence of God and we begin to see our lives from God's perspective. From the rarified atmosphere of prayer, we perceive new directions, new relationships, new vistas, and new possibilities. The perspective on life is better from the mountaintop, the mountaintop of prayer.

Perhaps the disciples had learned the value of the mountains from the example of Jesus. As they climbed the mountain on this day, they anticipated enjoying the view back down the slopes. Maybe they eagerly awaited the time of prayer with Jesus.

Surely it was a thrilling thing to hear Jesus pray. Jesus' prayers were so inspiring that the disciples felt they didn't know how to pray at all, and they asked him, "Master, teach us to pray." But when they arrived at this mountaintop, they were in for a surprise.

The disciples expected to see the view down the other side of the mountain. Instead they got a glimpse of the other side of heaven. Suddenly on the mountaintop Jesus was transfigured before their eyes. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly, they saw Moses and Elijah with Jesus.

The disciples were so stunned by the experience that they were moved to do something religious. Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

His was a natural impulse. Throughout Hebrew history, we find people pausing to set up an altar at the place where they have experienced an epiphany of God. Who wouldn't want to stay up there on the mountaintop?

Suddenly, the experience became even more majestic. A bright cloud surrounded them, and from the cloud a voice said, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!" This message is a direct parallel to the message Jesus received at his baptism. But at his baptism, Jesus was the only one who heard it. Now everyone hears the voice affirming Jesus as the Son.

The disciples were filled with fear and fell to the ground. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Get up and do not be afraid." And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

On the way down the mountain, Jesus told them, "Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead." Perhaps they did keep this story until after the Resurrection, but then they told this story with wonder.

Today, on Transfiguration Sunday, we are invited to climb the mountain and to stand with the disciples in the midst of mystery and experience the holy in the same way they did so long ago.

This day stands at the end of the liturgical season of Epiphany and the beginning of the season of Lent. I want you to see the Lenten journey as a passage in the mountains. It's a roller coaster ride from now to Easter.

Today we have been to the mountaintop at the Transfiguration, but soon we too will be dropped at the foot of the cross. The Ash Wednesday service this Wednesday night marks the beginning of that trek down the mountain. We go to the valleys for the forty days of Lent in anticipation of those dark days of Holy Week. The journey through the valley serves as a needed prelude before we climb the hill of Calvary and then once again experience the joy of Easter. For now though, its time to revel in the moment and enter into that experience so that we can be strengthened for the journey ahead.

But today we stand at the pinnacle of Epiphany. We see Christ, fully revealed. We experience the wonder and the mystery of God's presence and God's affirmation. When Paul contemplated life beyond this life, he exclaimed, "Behold, I tell you a mystery. We shall not all die" (1 Corinthians 15:51). It must have been something of that feeling, when the mystery of Jesus was revealed. "This is my Son, the Beloved!"

Just as the mountain peak splits the horizon, so the person of Jesus splits the landscape of time. Jesus is truly Emmanuel, God with us.

Have you been to the mountain? Have you climbed to the top? Jesus invites his disciples today to go with him to the mount of Transfiguration so that we can realize who he really is and who they really are. But a lot of people refuse to take the journey. A lot of people never see. Are you one of those?

Too many of us are like the farmer in a story told by a preacher friend named Beth Johnston. She tells about a Saskatchewan farmer who sold his six sections of land and moved to western Alberta. He bought a condo in a lovely little community in full view of the Rocky Mountains. As the days and weeks passed he began to see familiar faces on the streets. He got to know many new neighbors and they became his friends. The locals were all quite proud of their mountains (as they called them) and knew that this farmer had never seen anything but the level prairie all his life. They wondered why he never commented on the mountains, and, over time this actually began to bother them. One day one of them got up the nerve to ask him what he thought. "Charlie, you've been here a couple of months now. Whadda ya think of our mountains? Pretty impressive, ain't they!"

Charlie looked toward the mountains with their snow capped peaks piercing the blue sky and thought for a long moment. Finally he said slowly, but with great confidence, "Well, I suppose they are all right… but they do kinda spoil the view, don't they!" (Beth Johnston, http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Styx/4291/greena396.html#Feb18)

But the mount of Transfiguration calls us to rise and look around us. In 1970, Barbara Streisand starred in a musical that got mixed reviews for content but good reviews for the music. Perhaps the best song was the title song, "On A Clear Day," which has amazing parallels for the mount of Transfiguration. Streisand sang, "On a clear day Rise and look around you And you'll see who you are. On a clear day How it will astound you That the glow of your being Outshines every star. You'll feel part of every mountain sea and shore. You can hear, From far and near, A world you've never, never heard before… And on a clear day… On a clear day… You can see forever… And ever… and ever more."