Sermon

St. Philip's Episcopal Church, Durham, NC

2/26/06 - Last Epiphany

The Rev. Scott A. Benhase

"He did not know what to say, for they were terrified." Mark 9:6

Peter did not know what to say, for he was terrified. In Mark's account of the Transfiguration, our Gospel for this morning, we get to hear Mark editorializing about why it was that Peter had blurted out his comments after seeing Jesus transfigured in all his divine glory. Mark tells us that Peter spoke out of his fear. When we read such things in the Gospel, they should grab our attention because responses like Peter's seem so unusual. In the story, Peter, along with James and John, accompanies Jesus to a mountain top. There Jesus reveals to them his divine glory. What might we think would be a normal response to witnessing such an event? Jaw-dropping speechlessness comes to mind. Falling on one's knees before the glory of God also might occur to us. But Peter's response; to build three shrines to commemorate the event seems so unusual - at least at first glance. But fear is a powerful thing. It can cause us to do and say things that we would not normally do. It can cause us to react in ways that do not represent the best of our character. Fear can turn our hearts cold and distort our perspectives.

If we look at Peter's life for the week leading up to this event, we might better understand his fear. Only six days before, Jesus was alone with his disciples and asked them what people were saying about him. Some disciples said that the buzz around Judah was that he was a prophet. Others were saying that he was John the Baptist or Elijah come back to life. But then Jesus asked his disciples: "that's all well and good, but who do you say that I am?" After some awkward silence, Peter alone stood up in front of the others and boldly proclaimed that Jesus was the Christ, the Messiah.  Jesus commended Peter for his answer, but then added, because of whom he was and the mission God had given him, he would have to die on the cross.  Now, that was unacceptable to Peter so he rebuked Jesus. He and the other disciples had not come this far to have Jesus die like that. In the span of one week, Peter boldly confesses Jesus as the Messiah and then witnesses Jesus' divine humanity on the mountain top. It wasn't an easy week for Peter. So, may be it's understandable that in the midst of his fear, Peter pipes up says: "Thank God we're here. We'll capture this moment by building shrines to commemorate the experience." Mark then editorializes, "He did not know what to say, for they were terrified."

Peter's reaction to the transfiguration of Jesus on the mountain top was very much a human one. We humans, when confronted by the unknown, often act out of fear and confusion rather than faith and freedom. I think there are two basic ways we can look our lives and the universe we inhabit. One is driven by fear and confusion and it's represented by Peter's reaction to the transfiguration on the mountain top. This is a hapless effort to create God in our own image. This is a safe god. It's a god who agrees with us. It's a god we can control. It's a god who acts in ways we prescribe and one who never does anything we wouldn't do. This sort of god produces spiritual myopia, because this sort of god gives us permission to exercise all our prejudices, not to mention our prejudgments about the world around us. This is a fundamentalist god that confirms for us what we already want to believe. Put simply, this is a god of fear.

The other way is not the way of fear and confusion. Rather, it's the way of faith and freedom. This way looks our lives and the universe with humility and awe. The transfiguration of Jesus reminds us that God is not limited by our perceptions or guided by our fears. God in Jesus brings together the divine and the human. In becoming flesh-and-blood human, God chose to redeem us from our sin. God didn't take a Gallup poll to see if this is what people wanted. God simply did it in Jesus. We call this grace and such grace cannot be controlled by us because it is bestowed on by the God of grace.

Our first response to what God has done is to fall on our knees in awe and thanksgiving. Our second response is to begin open ourselves to the thrust of grace in our daily lives; to throw away our prejudices and prejudgments and to trust that, in the words of Dame Julian of Norwich, God in Jesus will make all things well. Once we begin to see the world from the perspective of God's grace, we'll look upon the people and circumstances of our lives with the eyes of God and begin to live by faith and freedom rather than by fear and confusion. We'll learn to become who God intends for us to become. God's call is not for us to act out of the baser aspects of our humanity, but rather God calls us to live with a spirit of grace and forgiveness; a spirit of love and mercy; a spirit of justice and compassion. In other words, we're called to live by faith.

What would our households look like? What would our work places look like? What would our city look like? Indeed, what would this world look like if we began to live by such faith? What if each of us this morning accepted God's true intention for our lives and became what God intended for us to become? I know what would happen: we'd change the world for Jesus.

Many of you know that I am afflicted with 2 dogs. I love them both but they're a challenge. We've had Bowtie for 10 years and we've had our emergency back up dog, Oban, for 2 years. Bowtie who looks like a black Irish Setter on steroids is a particular challenge. He mostly sleeps, eats, and barks at the wrong times. He also runs away at the drop of a hat. He's never been obedient to me. We even had a dog behaviorist give him therapy. She diagnosed him with separation anxiety and this explained his continual inability to be house trained. Let's just say he still leaves surprises for us from time to time after all these years. My reaction to her diagnosis was to ask that if he had separation anxiety then why did he run away every chance he had. The dog behaviorist never answered that question. She just looked at me with pity.

Well, for the last month or so we've had a rat take up residence in our house. And this is a tough rat. It's an urban rat with a leather jacket and tattoos. We tried traps and exterminators to get rid of this nasty fellow, but to no avail. We'd see his tail disappearing behind things, but we could never catch him. Each time, I'd always look at Bowtie and say: "You're a Setter; you're a hunting dog, get the rat!" And you know he'd just look at me and pretend he didn't understand a word I was saying.

Then one morning last week after running carpool, I was making coffee in the kitchen and I heard a bark, and the sound of dog paws slipping on the wood floor, and then a squeal. By the time I got into the living room to see what had happened, I found Bowtie in perfect hunting dog form, lying down with his paws in front of him. And right in front of his paws, he presented me with the rat he'd just killed. You see, Bowtie had finally become who God hade made him to be. He had finally learned to be exactly what God created him to be. All those years, he was a hunting dog trapped in boring domesticity.

And I believe you and I are people of faith and freedom trapped in a culture living in fear and confusion. Indeed, our national politics seem to be dominated by such appeals to fear and confusion. It is time for you and me to become who God has called us to be; to live into God's true intention for us; to open ourselves to the thrust of God's grace. To do that we need, we must throw off our predetermined ideas of how God must act. To do that, we must put away our fear and refuse to live by it. Put simply, we need to repent; to change our whole way of thinking about God's world and to allow ourselves to be overcome by the amazing grace of God. Amen.

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