"Dare to Glare"

Sermon 02.14.10
“Dare to Glare”

It’s too bad that sunglasses weren’t invented until 1929. Peter, James and John could each have used a pair up on that mountain top during the Lord’s transfiguration, because we read in the text that Jesus’ face changed and his clothes became dazzling white. In this same passage in Matthew’s gospel it says that his face shone like the sun. Shone like the sun. Something that we haven’t seen too often in Baltimore these days. I almost couldn’t find my prop this morning, since I’ve had very little occasion to wear them. And the disciples were blinded by this sight. On this mountain top experience, there was clearly a glaze.
Dazzling white, shining like the sun. How many here have a good working knowledge of astronomy? Me neither. Some of us have suffered through the science classes where you learn the names of the planets, and how the earth revolves around the sun, but I doubt that we recall many of the facts that we learned in school; only that this orb is very, very, very bright. In fact, the sun is the origin of virtually all of the energy that supports life on earth.

The sun has been burning for 4.6 billion years, yet only in the past two decades have scientists really begun to learn of its power. This planet is do big that you could put a million earths inside it, and it’s so dense that the sunbeams we see today began their journey from the center of the sun before the last ice age. It’s doubtful that we could get a full appreciation in a 15-minute sermon, and that would not be my purpose.

But one of the most interesting phenomena that I would like us to focus on is that the sun has a halo-like corona around it that is thousands of times hotter than the actual surface. The sun is surrounded by smaller suns that are hotter than the core. These mini-suns dare to glare even in the spectacular light of the one huge glow. Now hold that thought as we move through the rest of the Luke’s text.

It is Jesus’ face and body that are transfigured before the apostles that day, and they were blinded by the light. They are blown off their feet by what they see. Right before their eyes, Jesus begins to glow brightly with the glory that is reserved for heavenly beings. And transfigured is the word that is used to describe the process. This word is used only twice in the entire Bible, once in Matthew and once in Mark to depict the event that is the text for today. The Greek word is met-a-morph-o-they – from which we get our word metamorphoses, meaning a dramatic changing from one thing to another. That’s your vocabulary lesson from today’s Gospel.

Jesus’ appearance is dramatically changed. That’s scary enough. But then Moses and Elijah appear beside Jesus and start talking to him. I picture the apostles rubbing their eyes or even shielding them in terror as they watch this trio continue their conversation. Moses and Elijah are the two greatest Israelite prophets, loved and revered by the Jewish people. For one to show up is spectacular enough; for both, you almost need to put on your blinders. Then, there’s a repeat performance, reminiscent of Jesus’ baptism, when the Father’s voice breaks through the heavens to inform the disciples that Jesus Christ is the Son, the Beloved. This is what brings the apostles to their knees. Imagine the sun exploding in the sky.

Truly, Peter, James and John are blinded by the light. You know how hard it is to drive into the sun when it’s setting. Or to have a glare in the rear view mirror that makes you try to block and squint and shut it out. You can’t look at it, it’s just too bright. If you have remember occasions when they has been an elipse of the sun, one of the things that you should not do is look directly into it because it can damage your retina and cornea.

The problem in today’s text, however, is not that the apostles shielded their eyes. The problem is that the light was so bright that they had to blink, to close their eyes, even momentarily. It’s obvious that they can’t process what’s happening, because Pete starts babbling. Lord, how about if we throw up a couple of sheds and do a tad of worshipping here. It’s like he couldn’t figure out what to say, so he just utters the first dumb thing that comes to him. There’s a supernova zinging by, lighting up all of heaven, a solar flare that has gone out of control and Peter thinks it’s the Little Dipper.

We are always in the same situation as the disciples. We’re constantly shading our eyes or turning away when it gets too bright. Instead of basking in wonder and amazement and awe, Peter says, shouldn’t we be doing something? We put on our sunglasses so that we can blunt the light and reduce it to an energy source that we can handle. It is much easier for us humans to face a 10-watt night light that the mega electricity that comes from God’s power.

But, the good news in this text is that, as Christians, we are commanded to carry the light of Christ to the community. While we can never be the sun, we can function as the corollas – the smaller orbs that encircle the main planet. We do not have the transfigurative power to call up the ghosts of the prophets and hear heavenly affirmations from God the Father. But we can give off light in our own right. We can dare to glare. There are always opportunities to shine. After the apostles fall to the ground, I think it is significant that a bright cloud overshadowed them. And Jesus says, “Get up, don’t be afraid to pull out your flashlights and spread some of your light.

It is easy to recognize God when there’s a blaze of glory. The shining God moments are clearly visible: a baby’s birth, a gorgeous sunset, a double rainbow, the eclipse of the sun. It is far harder to recognize the smaller lights that are visible – the mini-suns that we carry to the world. But they are there and sometimes poke through the clouds and we can be blinded if we’re not ready for them. Sometimes we are on the receiving ends of the corollas of others.

Several years ago, in North Dakota, a teacher assigned to visit children in a large city hospital received a routine call requesting that she visit a particular child. She took the boy’s name and room and was told by the teacher on the other end of the line, “We’re studying nouns and adverbs in his class now. I’d be grateful if you could help him with his homework so he doesn’t fall behind the others.”
It wasn’t until the visiting teacher got outside the boy’s room that she realized it was located in the hospital’s burn unit. No one had prepared her to find a ten-year old named Martin who was horribly burned and in great pain. She felt that professionally she couldn’t just turn around and walk out, so she awkwardly stammered, “I’m the hospital teacher and your teacher sent me to help you with nouns and adverbs.”

The next morning, the nurse on the burn unit asked her, “What did you do to that boy?’ Before she could finish with a profusion of apologies, the nurse interrupted her. “You don’t understand,” she said. “We’ve been very worried about Martin, but ever since you were here yesterday, his whole attitude is changed. He’s fighting back and responding to treatment. It’s as though this young man has decided to live.

Martin later explained that he had completely given up hope until he saw the teacher. It all changed when he came to a simple realization. With tears of joy, he told the nurse , “Well, they wouldn’t send a teacher to work on nouns and adverbs with a dying boy, would they?”

The Transfiguration does not call us to be "a light at the end of the tunnel," waiting for people lost in the dark to blunder their way towards us. The church is to take the light of the world, the glory of Christ, boldly into the dark places. There is always a cloud lurking right outside our ring of light. Will we move forward and further towards it, like the teacher did, reaching out with the good news of the gospel?
Jesus is the sun, the Transfgured one, we are only the son beams. We are to live our lives in the light and lead others toward Christ by keeping the light alive.
Let us keep our eyes open for shining moments, for times when sunbeams break through the clouds. Let us see how we can brighten the world for others. Let us refrain from picking up the sunglasses, lest we look away or blink when the power from heavens is made manifest. Let us dare to glare in the lives of others. May we experience our own transfigurations so that our hearts and minds are changed forever. Amen.