Luke 9:28-43 - "It's All in the Face"

         It was all in the face.  At least, that is what the Gospel writer of Luke implies in this amazing, astounding, miraculous, mysterious, voyeuristic, visionary story of what we have come to call the Transfiguration.  Of course, the fact that Jesus’ rough sewn muslin robe of dusty beige with a tear at the neck turned a startling bleached white that would have made Maytag and Whirlpool proud was rather impressive as well.

         It was really all in the face though, but, then again, it is always in the face.  The human face fascinates us.  Nursing babies are positioned just right to be able to gaze at their mother’s face.  It is in faces that we find most of our distinguishing features:  Harry Potter had his mother’s eyes.  The Hapsburgs had their jaw.  Pinocchio had that embarrassingly long nose.  And Santa Claus – well, “his eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry, his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.”

         Even our language reflects this facial fixation.  “We speak of taking things at "face value," or of doing an "about face," or of "facing off" against opponents. We "face the music," make "face time," and when dishonored we "lose face." "Face cards" carry the most value and to stand "face-to-face" with another signifies being in the most valued of positions. One of the most advanced new computer identification techniques is the science of "facial recognition" — computer programs that can scan and identify individual faces without any other physical information.” (Leonard Sweet)

         And, let’s face it:  If you spend much time at all on the internet, who can resist facebook – and poking around to discover both the public and private faces of all our friends?

         Yes, it was all in the face when it came to that remarkable experience that Peter, James, John – and Jesus himself – had on the mountaintop outside of Nazareth.  Jesus had left some of his disciples behind in the village and had asked James, Peter, and John to accompany him in prayer.  They set out in the early morning hours and hiked up an old goat trail that wound through the pucker brush to the summit of what was most likely Mt. Tabor. 

         Once there, Jesus knelt and prayed to God.  In the meantime, what with the sun being so warm and the hike so long, the disciples promptly fell asleep.  That being said, Peter, James, and John never really saw exactly what happened.  Just like we never see how a caterpillar morphs into a butterfly, so they missed that pivotal moment when Jesus began to glow. 

         By the time they woke up, Jesus’ clothes were like an advertisement for Clorox bleach and light was practically splitting the seams – but even more remarkable than that, the appearance of his face had changed, we are told.  The Gospel writer does not tell us exactly how it had changed, but we are left to presume that it shone even more brilliantly than his clothes and with a glory that we can only imagine. 

         And on one side of him was Moses the great Jewish leader and giver of the law/the Torah and on the other was Elijah the ancient and foundational Jewish prophet.  And they were talking to Jesus, talking about Jesus’ departure to Jerusalem, according to this particular Gospel writer.

         Did they tell Jesus that his destiny would be fulfilled in Jerusalem?  Did they tell him not to be afraid?  Did they tell him that while it might seem that he had been forsaken that in the end God would be there with him and for him?  Did they tell him there was still much to do along the way to the Holy City? 

         And Jesus, did he sense even more fully than perhaps he had before that what he must do and what he must say would change the course of human history?  Did he understand even better that his ministry of compassion and forgiveness – that “loving your neighbor as yourself” business – really was just what God intended for humanity?  Did he realize that it would all come to pass as his intuition told him - that in the not too distant future he would again be flanked by two men – this time criminals, rabble rousers made examples of by Roman authorities – all of them dying on rough hewn wooden crosses together?

         The Gospel writer does not tell us because the Gospel writer does not know.  But the Gospel writer does tell us that it was about this time that Peter, James, and John woke up.  None of three of them knew what to make of it all.  James and John remained in silent awe.  Peter, on the other hand, apparently an extrovert, started talking – which is what extroverts frequently do when they are not sure what else to do. 

         Peter suggested building little tents for each one of them – shelters, shrines, the beginnings of a seminary - and just as he was really getting on a roll, spouting off his plans for a chapel and dormitories – he was silenced by a dark and shadowy cloud, out of which came a voice that could only belong to God. “This is my Chosen One, listen to him.”

         And the cloud disappeared, the sun came out again, Moses and Elijah were long gone, and it was just Jesus – the one they knew, the familiar one, with the deep brown and gentle eyes, the kind lips, the determined chin.  The glory was gone.  The light was gone.  But as Jesus looked into the disciples’ eyes, he saw that they would never be the same – nor would he. 

         Episcopal priest, Barbara Brown Taylor puts it this way:  “I think it was something he learned on the mountain, when light burst through all his seams and showed him what he was made of. It was something he never forgot. If we have been allowed to intrude on that moment, it is because someone thought we might need a dose of glory too, to get us through the night.”

         They never told anyone – not the four of them – what happened up there on the summit of Mt. Tabor.  I mean, really!  Would you have breathed a word of it to just anybody?  Would people have thought them crazy?  Probably – you have to be careful with visionary experiences.

         However, no one really thought to ask about the mountaintop experience because when Jesus, Peter, James, and John returned to the village, they walked right into a crowd surrounding the other nine disciples.  Matthew, Judas, Andrew, and the others were hard at work trying – without success - to exorcise a particularly evil demon in a small child.  Today we call it epilepsy as that would explain the fit and foaming at the mouth. – a grand mal seizure. 

         From the glory of the mountaintop, Jesus returned to the chaos of the village.  From the majesty of the summit, Jesus returned to the confusion that is the stuff of which the ordinariness of life is made.

         Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem now – he and Moses and Elijah had talked about it – remember? However, he stopped anyway and healed this small boy.  A word, a touch, and the seizure ceased as quickly as it had begun.  And as tears coursed down his cheeks and got caught up in his beard, the boy’s father wiped the spittle from his son’s mouth and cheeks until his face was clean once more.    

         Whether you believe that this tale of the transfiguration is literally true – or is an explanation of a mysterious vision – or was a legend fostered in the early days of Christianity to explain the glory of God that dwelt in abundance in Jesus, surely there is something even the most cynical among us can glean from it.  Actually three things, I think.

         First of all, we must not belittle those so-called mountaintop experiences, those times when we feel the glory of God or the power of the Almighty around us.  There is such a tendency to write them off as not authentic - or even fabricated. 

         The Celtic Christians of Great Britain called these experiences “thin places” – where the veil between the holy and the ordinary is for a moment stripped away and the two those worlds become one.  For me, the Isle of Iona is a thin place – as is the sacred site of Choquechirao in Peru – and the lakes of Algonquin Park in Ontario. 

         Mountaintop experiences do not have to happen on mountains either – or even outdoors!  They may occur in stuffy hospital rooms – or at the moment a hand is held or a hug given and received.  They may happen at summer camps – or even in churches when communion is shared or the choir does a particularly wonderful job of telling our story in their songs. 

         When these experiences happen, we would be wise to give God the benefit of the doubt – that the Holy One is still speaking.  God may speak to us in visions – I know that has been true for some of you – or God may speak to us in silence or in the wisp of a dream.  Respect these invasions into the ordinary, respect them and just listen.  “This is my Chosen One.  Listen to him.”

         Second, Jesus did not stay on the mountaintop – and neither should we.  He was on his way to Jerusalem – and in a sense, because we follow him, we are too.  And as the season of Lent unfolds, we will see that going to Jerusalem is not at all what the disciples expected.  As Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “Later, when Jesus’ exodus got under way and they saw what it meant for him -- when they saw that shining face bloodied and spat upon, those dazzling clothes torn into souvenir rags -- I’ll bet they had to rethink what that glory was all about. His face did not shine on the cross.”  And yet, we follow him off the mountaintop and out of our churches.  We take up our crosses and follow him to Jerusalem – once there to finally understand what it means to die and be reborn.

         Third, Jesus understood that there was lots of work along the way to the Holy City.  It was not a straight shot to Jerusalem, but rather it was littered along the way with the beaten down and the battered:  A demon to be exorcised.  The sick healed.  A crippled cured – even on the Sabbath.  Always Jesus stopped.  He looked into the faces of the needy and the eyes of the blind.  He wiped tears from the cheeks of the lonely and watched the mouths of the hungry being fed. 

         And so for us – and for this church – there is lots of work along the way.   We too will see the faces of the broken and the lonely and the ones whom society has chewed up and spat out.  Their faces should haunt us, for they are the crosses that we carry.  They are the ones we are called to stop for along the way to the Holy City, on the way to new life. 

         Francis Dorff wrote a wonderful story called "The Rabbi's Gift."   It goes like this:

         There was a famous monastery, which had fallen on hard times.  Few pilgrims came to seek guidance, and few young people became monks. At last, there was only a handful of elderly monks going about their work, their prayer, their study with heavy hearts.

         One day, the abbot of the monastery went to visit the local hermit rabbi. They greeted one another, and then went into the simple hut where the rabbi lived.  They sat there, silently prayed, and then the abbot began to weep. He poured out his concern for the monastery and for the spiritual health of the monks.

         Finally, the rabbi said, 'You seek a teaching from me and I have one for you. It is a teaching which I will say to you and then I will never repeat. When you share this teaching with the monks, you are to say it once and then never to repeat it. The teaching is this. Listen carefully. "The Messiah is among you."

         The abbot returned to monastery, gathered the monks, and told them the teaching: “The Messiah is among you.”   The monks began to look at one another ( and treat one another) in a whole new light.  Is Brother John the messiah? Or Father James? Am I the messiah?

         Each one of them might be the messiah, and the few pilgrims who still came to the monastery noted this new treatment of one another, this new sense of expectation,. And soon the word spread. What a spirit of concern and compassion and expectation can be felt at the monastery!  As you might guess, the monastery began to flourish once more – all because they looked into the faces on one another and saw each other as people of worth. 

         And so you see, the Gospel writer of Luke was right.  It is all in the face – for in each one of us shines the eyes of Jesus and the glory of God.

by Rev. Nancy Foran

www.rvccme.org