February 3, 2008 - Mountaintop Experiences - Frank Alton

Exodus 24:12-18; Matthew 17:1-9




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Yesterday my oldest daughter finally convinced me to go to a Tai Bo class with her. Today my body is telling me I might have been right all along in resisting it. I hurt in places I didn’t even know existed. But as we were driving home from the “torture chamber” we got to talking about Immanuel’s search for new leadership for our youth. She perked up and showed more interest than I imagined. At one point she said, “You know, dad, the young people I hang out with have deep belief in and commitment to God. We want to find ways to serve God and the world. But most churches just don’t offer that to us.” Then, because she is my daughter, she had to add, “I really like the people at Immanuel. But it’s so hard to feel the energy in that big space.”

A recent poll of 16-29 year old Christians suggests the younger generation exhibits a greater degree of criticism toward Christianity than previous generations. 50% perceive Christianity to be judgmental and hypocritical. 33% say it’s old fashioned and out of touch with reality. 80% say “anti-homosexual” is a phrase that describes Christianity. And 22% agree that Christianity today no longer looks like Jesus (Barna Group, September 2007, in Sojourners, April 2008 p. 10).

I believe that the various meanings of this day, especially including today’s two stories about mountaintop experiences, offer us a way to change course, to rediscover what a Christianity that looks more like Jesus might do differently. Yesterday, Feb 2, was the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. Different cultures celebrate that in a variety of ways. In traditional American culture it’s known as Groundhog Day, when something that happens in the middle of winter gives a hint about what spring is going to be like. Some Christians also celebrate the day as Candlemas, when all the candles that will be used throughout the year are brought to the church to be blessed. In Latin countries the day is called, Dia de la Candelaria, re-enacting the day 40 days after Christmas when the baby Jesus was presented in the temple.

We have two choices as we view these different ways to celebrate this day. We can say that only our way is right and the others are wrong. Or we can say that something common to people of many cultures unites us in wanting to mark this moment in the cycle of time.

This year today is also Transfiguration Sunday. Two of the texts for the day are the stories of Moses on Mount Sinai & Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration. Like the cycle of seasons, mountaintop experiences are also common to many religions and cultures. On Mt. Croagh (Croach ) Patrick in Ireland, each year as many as one million pilgrims and visitors make the trek to the top to pray at the stations of the cross, participate in Mass, do penance, or just enjoy the spectacular view. Mt. Kailash, Tibet, is one of the tallest peaks in the Himalayas near the source of the Ganges. It is venerated by Hindus, Jains, and Tibetan Buddhists.

We have two choices here as well. Remember when Elijah was on Mount Carmel and did battle with the prophets of Baal? At the end of his victory in that contest, Elijah commanded that all the prophets of Baal be put to death. Jesus made a different choice on Mount Calvary. He let his enemies put him to death. By so doing he introduced a new way to be human – the way of the cross.

The stakes are high as we choose between these options. The mountain of Jerusalem continues to be a place of division and death. Whether the religious meanings attached to Jerusalem are the genuine motives for much terrorism around the world, or simply an excuse for it, the choice by religious people to view the world through the lens of “my mountain is better than your mountain” fuels much of the violence.

Jesus made his choice long before Calvary. We see it on the Mount of Transfiguration. To understand that story we need to go back to the story of Moses on Mount Sinai. The journey of the Hebrews through the desert forms the foundation for the transfiguration story. Today’s passage describes Moses on Mount Sinai, the mountain of God. There was glory, there was a cloud, and there were six days. All those elements were in the Gospel story. But Mount Sinai is only part of the story of exodus and wilderness wanderings. The larger story of the Hebrews helps us understand the transfiguration. Peter’s suggestion to build three tents was consistent with the larger story.

Whenever the Hebrews stopped on their journey, they believed God dwelt in a tent they set outside the camp. God hovered above that same tent in the form of a cloud by day and fire by night as it was carried along their journey. The final sentences of the Book of Exodus read: “When ever the cloud was taken up from the tent, the Israelites would set out on each stage of their journey; but if the cloud was not taken up, then they did not set out until the day that it was taken up. For the cloud of the Lord was over the tent by day, and fire was in the cloud by night, before the eyes of all the house of Israel at each stage of their journey.”

So Peter wasn’t as off base as we often think in his desire to make the Gospel scene a stopping point along the way. Even as Peter spoke a cloud overshadowed them & a voice said, “This is my Son the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” That’s the challenging and fearful part. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” Then they saw no one except Jesus. There is the comfort and clarity.

The next thing the disciples knew they were coming down the mountain to a scene that reminded them that life continued just as it had before their mountaintop experience. Jesus was teaching them that things were different this time around. The only tents of dwelling would be their own bodies that are mostly on the move, and only occasionally stop to rest.

Perhaps we shouldn’t be so critical of today's Peters for wanting to prolong great mountaintop experiences. Good for them (or us!). It's worth a try. But when those experiences are genuine, we encounter something bigger than ourselves – something that is challenging and fearful on the one hand, and comforting and clear on the other; something that tap into deep parts of us. Those deep parts are genuine, even though they may not be able to immediately face the light of day once we go down the mountain. While we're up there with Jesus & company it's good to remind ourselves that all genuine religious experiences point to God. Religious highs that are no more than that & are used to hype us on experiences, not God, can't prepare us for the journey down the mount, nor for the challenges lie at the bottom. Like Peter, we too must realize that things are different this time around. Somewhere along the line we became God's tent! When it's time to move on, it's time to move on. And we pitch ourselves somewhere else – wearing our tent inside us. We are God's glory, God's tent, even the echo of God's voice, still & small or loud & clear.

What is God’s glory? It’s the reflection of God from inside, not outside. It doesn’t mainly happen to celebrities, and it’s not about what happens on stage. It’s what happens inside us when we're prepared to live & suffer for right & love. What changes in transfiguration is not so much the scene around us; it’s us. Let me see if I can help you picture this. The first time I flew into Mexico City I was coming from Central and South America. Flying into Bogota, Colombia and San Jose, Costa Rica was inspiring, because the lush green was all around. To land in Mexico City was to sink into a smoke-filled desert-like valley that simply looked dry & desolate. But today when I fly into Mexico City I don’t see smoke and desolation. I am filled with the expectation of seeing old friends and connecting to great memories. What changed? I assure you it wasn’t Mexico City. The change happened in the way I experience Mexico City.

So in today’s scriptures one mountain is shrouded in clouds when Moses and Joshua go up, and the other is overshadowed when Jesus was transfigured before the disciples. Laurel Dykstra wonders, “was it Jesus who changed or was it that John, James and Peter could now see the face of God shining in the man they knew? Did the thin air and the elevated perspective contribute to their clarity of vision? When they came down from their mountaintop, did they take their new capacity to see into the low places and crowded city streets? Can we? And when we see the face of God shining through those who are familiar to us, do we truly, deeply listen to them?” (Sojourners, April 2008, p. 56)

Today Jesus is far more likely to be crucified by 'collateral damage', land mines, razor wire, terrorist bombs, police brutality, refugee camps, globalization, &c, than on a cross. Those too busy looking backwards, or in other wrong directions, and those trying to hang on to mountaintop experiences, can't see that. So people end up being disfigured rather than transfigured – both those who do it, & those who suffer it. I think this has something to do with what the younger generation is saying about the church. The church isn’t making enough connections between the instructive stories from the past and the stories that demand our attention in the present.

How can we do better in that? I think one answer is another dimension of the Transfiguration story. Jesus used this experience to teach some important life lessons to a few of his followers. On that mountaintop he helped them see who he was with enough clarity so that they could see the world in the right light. That’s what Jesus did with them throughout his ministry. When I was growing up in the faith I called that “discipling.” Today I would call it “mentoring.” Last weekend a group of Immanuel men gathered for dinner and conversation. We told stories of times that we had been mentored and times that we had mentored others. It was a powerful and inspiring time for me as I learned new things about some guys I’ve known for years.

Several men shared stories about mentors who had trusted them with responsibilities even when they hadn’t earned that trust. One told us that he became a teacher because of several men who had organized informal sports teams among neighborhood children like him who had no other way to gain access to competitive athletics. Several gave examples that showed the importance of vulnerability, forgiveness and acknowledging mistakes between them and their mentors. They spoke about people they had mentored coming back and inspiring them. They were teachers in Guatemala who also published manuals about organic agriculture; they were research assistants and University professors in Mexico; they were educators of at risk youth in Los Angeles.

I wonder if the church might be transfigured if more of us offered ourselves as mentors to our youth. Can we be vulnerable? Can we admit our mistakes? Can we forgive and let others forgive us? Perhaps if we can, then together generations of the faithful might make different choices. No longer will we say, “My God’s mountain is better than your God’s mountain.” We will say, “You and I seem to have some of the same longings. Maybe we can work together to create something beautiful.” No longer will we try to put up tents on the mountain. We will be the tents of God’s presence in the world. So let’s sing about our time on the mountain. But let’s sing it from the real world, so that our mountaintop experiences will make a real difference there.