"Mountaintop Experience" 

Transfiguration Sunday
March 2, 2003 
Rev. Rachel Cornwell, Bethesda UMC

Maria was five years old the first time she went to the ballet to see her mother dance. She had seen her practicing, stretching and rehearsing, and her mother had told her that she was going to dance the lead in "Swan Lake." But Maria didn't quite understand all this until the moment when she saw her mother enter the stage, dressed in tulle and satin, engulfed in the spotlight, and Maria gasped and quietly whispered, "But, will she still be my mother?" Many of the adults around her chuckled at Maria's reaction, but for this child, the sight of her mother so gloriously transformed filled her with both awe and fear. Would she ever be the same? How could the woman who made her dinner, gave her a bath, and tucked her into bed at night be the same person whose presence on the stage was nothing less than luminescent?

The moment of Jesus' transfiguration created the same soul-searching response in the Disciples: Peter, John and James. This man, Jesus, their teacher, their friend, had led them up the mountain, and then suddenly he was changed-his clothes and skin were glowing with a heavenly light-and all that he had been saying about being the Messiah was real and present before them. They were frightened, awestruck, amazed, confused. And the power of this mountaintop experience is that Jesus is transfigured for a moment but the Disciples are transformed permanently.

Have you ever had a "mountaintop experience" of your own? A time or a place where you encountered God so clearly, so powerfully that it became a, or the, defining moment of your faith? Perhaps your mountaintop experience came during a time of great trial and you found that you could turn to Jesus for strength to get you through. Perhaps your mountaintop experience came during worship or Bible study or prayer, when you heard the voice of God, and in John Wesley's words, your "heart was strangely warmed?" Perhaps you had a mountaintop experience as you were serving a brother or sister in need, and you found God through connection and community? Perhaps you haven't had a "mountaintop experience" to speak of, but we all have ways in which God is present to us, and it is both deeply personal and profound. Through God's revelations, whether they are subtle whispers or blinding lights, God appears to us in a new way so that we can be changed.

For several summers when he was in Junior High and High School, my husband Marcus went to a work camp in Eastern Tennessee called Mountain Top. The youth at the camp formed work teams and went out into the mountain communities to repair the houses of people who lived in poverty. The experience of service and worship was so meaningful that when he was old enough, Marcus returned to Mountain Top to work as a staff member for two summer. The strange thing about mountaintop experiences is that they change your life. A couple years ago Marcus got back in touch with a friend from that summer at Mountain Top who now lives in DC. Marcus invited him to church at Dumbarton, and now Bill, his wife and their two children are members there. Marcus and I were sponsors of their son's baptism. Another person Marcus knew from Mountain Top was a friend of mine at Candler and we attended the same church in Atlanta. All of these people, who had been nurtured by the power and presence of God at Mountain Top when they were young, continue to be connected to the church and following in the path of faith.

However, transformation doesn't always feel like a blessing, and like the Disciples we may resist the new because we are more comfortable with the old. When Peter sees Jesus along with Moses and Elijah, he grasps at some way to make the moment last, to create permanence out of this miracle. "Rabbi," Peter says, (he is not yet able to comprehend Jesus' divine nature), "this is a great moment! Let's build three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah!" The appearance of Moses and Elijah represent the Law and the Prophets, and Jesus Christ, the fulfillment of them. What else could they need? This is the moment they have been waiting for-they are scared, but also enraptured. As Henry Nouwen says about this moment, "This is it…everything fits…all I ever hoped for is here." They don't want anything to change, so Peter suggests building three dwellings where they can stay, and everything can remain like this forever.

The dwellings that Peter recommends constructing are reminiscent of the sukkah, or booths that are built for the Jewish festival of booths, also called Sukkot. The festival of booths is a festival of the harvest and is celebrated as a reminder of the Exodus journey, as it says in the book of Leviticus,

"You shall live in booths for seven days…so that your generations may know that I made the people of Israel live in booths when I brought them out of Egypt." Rabbi Arthur Waskow writes that "Sukkot is the time for Messianic hope: the festival of redemption, fulfillment…" So it is no wonder that Peter is inspired to build booths at the moment that Jesus is transfigured and Moses and Elijah appear-as an observant Jew he finds comfort in the familiar rituals of his tradition.

But Peter has forgotten that the sukkah, by its very nature is impermanent. The sukkah is a temporary structure; it is study enough to provide shelter, but a strong enough wind could knock it over. Rabbis presiding over the demise of their congregational sukkot in a fall storm have been known to pronounce, "Well, at least we know it was kosher…" The ceiling of a sukkah is made of twigs and braches, and you should be able to see the stars shine through the open places-it reminds us of our dependence on God. In the darkness of night you can glimpse sparks of light through the spaces left in the roof above you, bright signs of holiness and hope.

There is no way Peter can prolong this moment or avoid the change that is to follow. The cloud of God's presence appears and God's voice commands the Disciples, "this is my beloved son, listen to him." They cannot avoid the truth any longer, Jesus is the Messiah, and what he has been telling them is true. When they go down from this mountaintop experience Jesus' journey will turn toward Jerusalem. Do they have the courage to follow him? To witness his betrayal, his suffering, his death? To accept their own weaknesses and infidelity? Do we?

The story of Jesus' transfiguration is given to us the Sunday before Lent to remind us, as we enter our Lenten journey, that there is hope on the other side. There are no mountaintops on the way to the cross, but unlike the Disciples we know what Jesus is talking about when he speaks of rising from the dead. This path will cause us to be changed, whether we want to be or not. Our path of discipleship can lead us into challenging, frightening, soul-searching places. But by climbing up mountains, and down into valleys and back up again, our faith is strengthened, our lives are shaped, and we know we are following the trail that is worn into the ground by the one who lights our way, Jesus the Messiah.

Amen.