Glow in the Dark, Like Jesus

Glow In the Dark, Like Jesus  

2 Kings 2:1-12, Mark 9:2-9 

The scriptures from this morning are right on the border between really cool, and suspiciously over dramatic. You know, “Swing Low Sweet Chariot, coming for to carry me home, Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, coming for to carry me home.” 

And we get a glimpse of the glorified - perhaps Resurrected? - Jesus. We have seen the pictures of Mt. Tabor overlooking the Plain of Armageddon, in the shadow of Nazareth on the mesa to the North. We can now place this Transfiguration event on Google maps. Here it sits on the plain between the sea of Galilee and Nazareth. Somehow, knowing the place that is referred to, adds an element of reality to a story that seems steeped in the supernatural.  

Over the years I have struggled with Bible stories like these. They are right on the border of this world and the next. While poets and prophets and televangelists have loved this territory, I am so less confident. I truly believe in life after death. I have had experiences where I am really pretty certain there was movement between the states of life, still my rational self is not prepared to make broad claims saying that I understand or can interpret these kinds of events. 

We know that Elijah and Elisha, were men of God, widely known and respected in their day. Not many prophets are recognized as holy in their own day and age. We recognize that the fiery chariot came for Elijah in the Jordan River Valley, not far from the site of the Baptism of Christ, and the city of Palms, Jericho. 

The Dali Lama might be the most widely appreciated holy man of our day. He too, lives as an exile from his native Tibet, in response to the occupation by China. The truly religious and peaceful, pose a threat to political systems. As Christians, we can acknowledge the wisdom we associate with the Dali Lama, but feel awkward about how to regard the relationship of a Buddhist to our God; the God of the Jews, Muslims and Christians.   

A good part of my own spiritual journey today is intentionally avoiding the “standard” answers to the great questions of life and faith, and becoming more comfortable sitting with the questions. Are you comfortable, sitting with questions? Are you at a point in your life where you can tolerate a bit of mystery? 

I believe we exhibit a certain level of maturity when we can see that everything was not always black and white, sacred or profane, good or evil. When I found in myself, true affection for portions of both sides of an argument, then I knew I was growing up. I am less likely to scream at my opponents, since I understand they have reasons for their position, that are valid in their eyes. 

As Elijah was nearing the end of his days, his protege Elisha did not want to let him go. He went with him all around the area. Everyone with a spiritual sense, knew that the day had come, and Elisha acknowledged his personal understanding. 

As an Interim pastor, I do not always get invited by the family into sacred times. Recently at my last call, a special needs person was nearing death. The family called and invited me to the Nursing Home, where he had just been placed in Hospice Care. 

The gentleman was in his fifties. He had been an especially cheerful man until his health betrayed him in his last year. Wonderfully, the staff and residents at the facility where he had lived since his mother died, treated him like the “old Timmy” even though he was often sour and difficult. 

I sat by the bed talking with his older brother, a no nonsense plumber. “Timmy’s” favorite Johnny Cash album provided the background music. We talked of Timmy’s mother, and her protective devotion to him. The brother tearfully recalled being unable to keep Timmy in his house, even though he had promised his mother. It just did not work. 

In the residential facility, Timmy made great and lasting friendships. I assured the bother, his mother understood and accepted his choice, and clearly his brother lived a fuller and more joyful life than his mother could have imagined, “constraining him in an institution,” could ever deliver. 

As we spoke, there was an undeniable relaxation in Timmy. There was a sense of peace. The brother and I talked on about challenges in the brother’s life, and ways to look for grace. After a couple of hours I took my leave. There were staff members in the room, present on their day off, looking after their dear friend. The family seemed at peace. 

Before I left, I told them that I sensed the spirit of his mother, who had come from heaven, to bring her special child home. Shining eyes around the room, nodded their agreement. He died within the hour. 

Timmy was a flesh and blood human. But like you and I, he also has a spiritual nature, known and loved by God, and most comfortable in the presence of God. His spiritual nature was not restricted by his reason and ability to make choices, and neither is yours. Your spiritual nature is already alive and well and in the continual presence of God. 

There are moments in the real world, where the space between heaven and earth seems so narrow that one could reach through from one side to the other. This is not the only occasion I have been in this space. This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday and we will enter the liturgical season of Lent. I will invite you to seek a new appreciation of your own dual nature, both the physical and spiritual, and how that gives us a wider perspective of this life and how our eternal life is already surrounding us. 

On the holy mountain in our gospel story, Mark, the master of understatement, tells us of a magical event where Jesus gives us what may well be a glimpse of the resurrected Christ. Certainly, we are offered an appetizer, and confirmation that Jesus is not alone in the afterlife. Moses and Elijah, well loved by God, represent for us that there is a seamless transfer from this life to the next. 

Yes, the figure of Jesus the Christ is glorified. Yes, Jesus represents the love of God as an action figure in the gospel of Mark. We get a hint in today’s passage of Mark’s “Messianic Secret.” In Mark, Jesus continually tells his disciples to not tell the world that he is the Jewish Messiah until the end of his days. It is part of Mark’s dramatic telling of the story. 

Today, we stand at the last gas station before entering the desert -  that is the season of Lent. We are here to fill our gas tanks and buy bottled water, against the possibility of mechanical failure. We pause before we enter the time where we confront both our limitations and our possibilities, our humanity a silhouette against the recollection of the impending torture and execution of Jesus of Nazareth. 

We have our feet on the ground, though on a high mountain, show us the picture of Mount Tabor. A holy place, distinct and solitary out on the plain. And here our hearts and minds are suddenly aware of the glory of God that awaits Jesus, and those who are lovers of God. Like you and me, lovers of God. As Jesus glows as a blinding light, you and I live to reflect that glory. The time is not yet, and still, it is time. We exist in this world of flesh, and our spirits already live, in the world to come, Amen.