The Rev. Ann R. Lougee February 18, 2007 Glimpses of Glory Luke 9:28-36; Gospel of Philip 57:28-58:10 We have come to the end of another season of Epiphany, when we pay attention especially to the ways and the times that God is manifested in our lives and in the life of the world, symbolized by light. This week we will enter the Season of Lent, with the annual ecumenical Ash Wednesday service at 7pm, held this year at First Christian Church. During the season of Lent, we set out with Jesus toward Jerusalem and his death on the mount of Calvary. Before we do so, we pause today on another mountain for one of those "mountaintop experiences" so sought after even in our post-Enlightenment, scientific, post-modern day. There seems to be a universal, deep, human longing to taste, however briefly, both the transcendence and the nearness, the intimacy of God. When such moments happen they are usually intense and brief, and, try as we might, we cannot hold onto them, make them come back, or make them occur in the first place. The best we can do is deliberately to cultivate frequent quiet times in which they might happen. In today's story from Luke's gospel, Peter, James, and John had one of those intense, ecstatic visions that might have transformed their lives then and there, but they weren't sure what to do with it. In the midst of his busy life of teaching and healing, of preaching forgiveness of sins and good news for those at the bottom of society, Jesus has called his followers to stop and pray with him. He undoubtedly wants them to be open to God's unexpected and indescribable grace, to be strengthened by it, instructed by the voice of the Stillspeaking God. Knowing that he will soon be on his way to what will most likely be his end, he wants them to and empowered to continue on his path, to follow his Way, no matter where it leads. But sleep-deprived Peter, the text says, practically babbled, "not knowing what he said," offering to put up tents and preserve the experience. We are sure that he was, of course, only trying to be helpful. Some of us, like Peter, seem to think that every situation requires us to DO something. However well-intentioned our efforts might be, we, like Peter, are called back to faithfulness by the voice of God in the story: "This is my Son, my chosen, listen to him!" One can practically imagine God's annoyance that Peter didn't have sense enough to remain silent at such a moment. Moses was told he couldn't see God and live, and perhaps Peter should have been told that he couldn't see God and talk so much. As usual, however, Peter is like us, or we are like him. We too often try to talk our way into understanding, try to process an experience out loud so that we can absorb its meaning and make that meaning part of who we are. But this story is about the meaning of Jesus. The disciples experience an incredibly intimate moment, when they perceive that Jesus is God's own Child. One commentator says that on Mt. Sinai, Moses received the Ten Commandments, but on the Mount of the Transfiguration, the disciples received only one commandment – listen to Jesus. Peter and the others are not keen on Jesus' words about suffering and death that he has just spoken before going up the mountain; after all, they're understandably hoping for deliverance from, and maybe even triumph over, their enemies, the Romans. But Jesus hears another call, and he follows it faithfully, inviting his friends, and us, to come along. Peter's attempt to enshrine his mountaintop experience wasn't what Jesus had in mind. As another commentator says, "Faithfulness is not achieved by freezing a moment, but by following on in confidence that God is leading and that what lies ahead is even greater than what we have already experienced." I want to ask you a question now, all of you gathered here, especially those with some longevity at Pilgrim Church, and I'll bring the microphone so you can answer. As you look back on our first fifty years, what have been the mountaintop moments when you caught a glimpse of God's glory right here, in the very human existence of our congregation? ... Now I'd like all of us, both long-timers and newcomers to consider a question. Time and again, Jesus taught his followers to care for the poor and downtrodden, to preach the gospel of God's all-encompassing love to those who feel unloved and unlovable. How are we at Pilgrim Church listening to the Stillspeaking God's command to listen to Jesus, and where do you think it will take us in the future? .... I'll bring this to a close now with a point to ponder. Does transformation always happen suddenly, from one minute or one hour to the next? Or is it sometimes, maybe even most often, a day-by-day, perhaps even month-by-month or year-by-year process? As we end our Epiphany experience and prepare to embark on our Lenten journey, I hope that we can read and hear this text as a call to take what we have experienced, any glimpses of glory we have perceived, out into the world and into the future. I hope that we can integrate our glimpses of God's love, our tastes of God's glory, into the everydayness of our lives so that we may be transformed by them into the likeness of Christ. May it be so. Amen.