You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
How much more likely are you to respond to an email or phone call if it’s prefaced with, “Our mutual friend So-and-So suggested I get in touch with you…?” Knowing that a stranger is connected to someone we know makes us more open. So it’s significant that the next event in this “long, strange trip” the disciples enjoy up on that mountain is the appearance of Moses and Elijah with Jesus. Leaving aside the question of how they knew who those two were, here’s a deeper one: why Moses and Elijah?
I can think of at least two reasons: Tradition and Testimony. Moses and Elijah represent the Law and the Prophets. Jesus and his followers took care to communicate that Jesus’ teaching and ministries were a fulfillment of previous revelation, not a departure. On Easter afternoon, when the risen Jesus comes upon a couple of sad disciples on the road to Emmaus, we’re told: “And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.” (Luke 24:27)
Moses was the great giver of the Law, the commandments sent from God. And Elijah was one of the greatest of the prophets of Israel, said to have been carried up into heaven in a chariot of fire at the end of his life. This is why the Jewish people held an expectation of Elijah’s return.
These two great heroes of the tradition had something else in common – they were both recipients of “theophanies,” encounters in which God made himself known to them. Moses spent time in the presence of God, both on Mount Sinai and in the Tent of Meeting. And Elijah was told, in a moment of despair, to stand outside the cave in which he was hiding, and that God would pass by - and God did.
And then there is the matter of testimony. I suggested earlier this week that Jesus was preparing these three followers to bear witness to his true identity after his resurrection. Jewish law required at least three witnesses. Perhaps Moses and Elijah appear here as witnesses to the witnesses – their presence a vivid testimony that this vision was real and true.
Does it matter to us that Peter, James and John saw Moses and Elijah with Jesus on the mountain? Well, it connects this odd revelation with the great tradition out of which our religious heritage emerged. While that might not be persuasive to a skeptic, it was enough to ground the claims about Jesus in a larger story, and that did help Jews of his day believe.
Perhaps this is how the communion of saints functions for some. Those who have spiritual encounters with saints (and I don’t mean ghosts…) can find their faith encouraged and strengthened by the testimony of people who have been with God. Nothing beats being in the presence of Jesus himself, of course, but we all have different filters and different ways of connecting, and sometimes we believe more readily when people we trust have gone there first.
Which gets us back to telling the stories of our encounters with God. You never know when you might function as a Moses or Elijah to someone trying to get a grip on this strange and wondrous revelation of ours. Maybe if people see us hanging out with Jesus - or at least hear about it - they’ll be more eager to meet him themselves.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Showing posts with label theophany. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theophany. Show all posts
2-16-23 - Be Not Afraid
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
This is how I understand Jesus' transfiguration: that in this moment he is revealed as pure light, an energy form that radiated brightness. Whatever the cause, the effect was surely splendid, and probably terrifying. And to deepen the scary, it was followed by the appearance of two dead people, conversing as if alive. But none of this seems to frighten the watching disciples; Peter’s only reaction is to want to build three shelters so they can hang out together.
Yet, when a bright cloud comes over them, with a voice in it, suddenly they’re petrified: While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear.
We can absorb unusual experiences until there is too much “unusual” and our circuits overload. Or were the disciples fine as long as they could see – but when their sight was obscured by a cloud that spoke, then they panicked? Or was it that they knew in their spirits that God was speaking to them – and they could hear with their ears? OR was it what that voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” They must have heard the stories about Jesus’ baptism, when a voice from heaven was heard to say almost the same words. Were they overcome by fear because now it was unmistakable – that Jesus was in fact God's Son, holy, divine? Now there was no going back?
True movements of God that we experience with our physical senses tend to be deeply frightening – they’re so far outside our expectation. Many of us encounter God with our spiritual senses; that’s powerful enough. But when we perceive the holy with the same senses that engage the rest of life? Look out! We can’t pretend to be manufacturing it – we’re either crazy, or in God’s presence – and neither possibility is comforting. I only had one experience even remotely like that, on a retreat once, when I felt a room I was in filled with a presence that was so completely “Other,” it seemed to be God… I’ll never know if it was, because I ran from the room back to where other people were.
It can be hard for us to identify with the shock of recognizing Jesus as God… this is a story handed down to us rather than experienced first-hand. And for many it’s such a familiar story, it can be hard to feel the emotions being related. So let’s think today:
Every spiritual experience, no matter how deep or frightening, comes to an end. Our perceptions normalize; reality returns. And then we’re left with what? “No one, except Jesus himself alone.” Sounds like a pretty good deal to me…
This is how I understand Jesus' transfiguration: that in this moment he is revealed as pure light, an energy form that radiated brightness. Whatever the cause, the effect was surely splendid, and probably terrifying. And to deepen the scary, it was followed by the appearance of two dead people, conversing as if alive. But none of this seems to frighten the watching disciples; Peter’s only reaction is to want to build three shelters so they can hang out together.
Yet, when a bright cloud comes over them, with a voice in it, suddenly they’re petrified: While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear.
We can absorb unusual experiences until there is too much “unusual” and our circuits overload. Or were the disciples fine as long as they could see – but when their sight was obscured by a cloud that spoke, then they panicked? Or was it that they knew in their spirits that God was speaking to them – and they could hear with their ears? OR was it what that voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” They must have heard the stories about Jesus’ baptism, when a voice from heaven was heard to say almost the same words. Were they overcome by fear because now it was unmistakable – that Jesus was in fact God's Son, holy, divine? Now there was no going back?
True movements of God that we experience with our physical senses tend to be deeply frightening – they’re so far outside our expectation. Many of us encounter God with our spiritual senses; that’s powerful enough. But when we perceive the holy with the same senses that engage the rest of life? Look out! We can’t pretend to be manufacturing it – we’re either crazy, or in God’s presence – and neither possibility is comforting. I only had one experience even remotely like that, on a retreat once, when I felt a room I was in filled with a presence that was so completely “Other,” it seemed to be God… I’ll never know if it was, because I ran from the room back to where other people were.
It can be hard for us to identify with the shock of recognizing Jesus as God… this is a story handed down to us rather than experienced first-hand. And for many it’s such a familiar story, it can be hard to feel the emotions being related. So let’s think today:
- Are there times when you’ve been overcome by the presence of God in a way that scared you?
- Have your physical senses ever been overwhelmed so that you had to rely on spiritual perception?
- Does your expectation of God include experiences that seem supernatural, like this one?
- Do you think the Spirit wants you to be open to more? What are we really afraid of?
Every spiritual experience, no matter how deep or frightening, comes to an end. Our perceptions normalize; reality returns. And then we’re left with what? “No one, except Jesus himself alone.” Sounds like a pretty good deal to me…
2-21-22 - Up the Mountain
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
We have had a long Epiphany this year. Yet no matter what stories we visit or people we meet during this season, we always end up on the mountaintop with Jesus and three of his closest followers, with Jesus’ big “reveal.”
Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray.
In the Bible, mountains are places where people encounter God. On Mount Moriah, Abraham offers to sacrifice his son and is spared by God. On Mount Sinai, Moses meets with God, and when he descends, his face shines so brightly people are blinded. On Mount Horeb, Elijah catches a glimpse of God. People also meet God in deserts and towns and watery places, but the height and majesty of mountains seem to make them particularly conducive to theophanies.
Maybe it's because mountaintops are “away places.” Climbing them generally takes some effort. We need to plan our expeditions, bring lunch and water - or, if it’s a really big mountain, weeks’ worth of supplies. We have to make sure we’re fit enough to make the climb, and maybe surround ourselves with people we want to hike with.
And we have expectations – of beauty and grandeur, of great vistas and intimate moments with the natural world. We expect hard climbing but also some flat ground and downward slopes. And we hope to see something at the top that we can see from nowhere else on earth, the big picture that puts our lives into perspective.
The life of faith can be like that, with hills and valleys on its route. We know God is present in the lowlands (as Jesus’ followers discover at the base of the mountain in our gospel reading this week). But we think maybe we’ll have a close encounter with God on the heights, one that will help us through the more challenging parts of our life's journey.
I don’t know what Peter, James and John expected when Jesus invited them along on his hike – certainly not what they experienced. They probably anticipated some rich time of conversation and contemplation with their master and friend. And so should we. Let’s make this climb with Jesus this week as a training run for the deeper excursion into God we might make during Lent.
What are your expectations of time with God? What do you dread?
What provisions do you want to carry for going deeper in the Spirit?
We have had a long Epiphany this year. Yet no matter what stories we visit or people we meet during this season, we always end up on the mountaintop with Jesus and three of his closest followers, with Jesus’ big “reveal.”
Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray.
In the Bible, mountains are places where people encounter God. On Mount Moriah, Abraham offers to sacrifice his son and is spared by God. On Mount Sinai, Moses meets with God, and when he descends, his face shines so brightly people are blinded. On Mount Horeb, Elijah catches a glimpse of God. People also meet God in deserts and towns and watery places, but the height and majesty of mountains seem to make them particularly conducive to theophanies.
Maybe it's because mountaintops are “away places.” Climbing them generally takes some effort. We need to plan our expeditions, bring lunch and water - or, if it’s a really big mountain, weeks’ worth of supplies. We have to make sure we’re fit enough to make the climb, and maybe surround ourselves with people we want to hike with.
And we have expectations – of beauty and grandeur, of great vistas and intimate moments with the natural world. We expect hard climbing but also some flat ground and downward slopes. And we hope to see something at the top that we can see from nowhere else on earth, the big picture that puts our lives into perspective.
The life of faith can be like that, with hills and valleys on its route. We know God is present in the lowlands (as Jesus’ followers discover at the base of the mountain in our gospel reading this week). But we think maybe we’ll have a close encounter with God on the heights, one that will help us through the more challenging parts of our life's journey.
I don’t know what Peter, James and John expected when Jesus invited them along on his hike – certainly not what they experienced. They probably anticipated some rich time of conversation and contemplation with their master and friend. And so should we. Let’s make this climb with Jesus this week as a training run for the deeper excursion into God we might make during Lent.
What are your expectations of time with God? What do you dread?
What provisions do you want to carry for going deeper in the Spirit?
Who else do you want along?
This story is very familiar to longtime churchgoers, but I pray we will have a new encounter with it this week. After all, we can hike up the same hills time and again, and never experience them quite the same way. May it be like that with this strange and extraordinary tale of Encounter.
This story is very familiar to longtime churchgoers, but I pray we will have a new encounter with it this week. After all, we can hike up the same hills time and again, and never experience them quite the same way. May it be like that with this strange and extraordinary tale of Encounter.
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