Metamorphosis & Mission

May I speak in the name of the transfiguring Christ, Light from Light, who challenges us to change and grow through co-missioning.

Metamorphosis.  In the lectionary readings assigned for today, the last Sunday after Epiphany, we’re hearing about Jesus’ transfiguration while on a mountain with some of his disciples.  The Greek verb form that has been translated as ‘transfiguration’ is a word that you’re probably familiar with in its Latin form: metamorphosis.  It means beyond-form or to change form, to re-form, to re-model, to fundamentally change shape or state; a paradigm shift.  For rhetorical purposes, I’m going to refer to ‘metamorphosis’ rather than transfiguration.

Mission. For the last fourteen years, the Episcopal Church* has observed World Mission Sunday on this Sunday before Lent begins (*note: Roman Catholics observe World Mission Sunday in October).  The stated purpose of this observance is to “hold up and celebrate our shared commitment and call to mission.” This year, we’re asked to celebrate and pray for the work and witness of 60 missionaries we have serving in 25 countries around the world… and to remain mindful that the Episcopal Church's official name is The Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society of the Episcopal Church.  All members of the Episcopal Church are also members of the Society and, therefore, we are all missionaries.  And, in fact, I am a ‘missioner’ (my work is domestic, here in this diocese among the college and university campuses) and with me is Nic, one of our campus ministry interns, who will be a short-term foreign missionary this summer with our Kansas2Kenya college team.  We’ll come back to this in a bit.

Light. As we consider metamorphosis and our mission, we also should reexamine our relationship with light… what light means in our lives as Christians.

So, you have three things to juggle in the next few minutes – listening for and considering ideas about metamorphosis, mission, and light.  Listen for how they’re related.  And, consider your own relationship to them. If you have trouble keeping them all in play as we look more closely at a couple of our lessons, focus on the one that resonates most with your heart this morning – the one through which the Spirit is most speaking to you.

MOUNTAINS AND METAMORPHOSIS

Today we’ve heard about both Moses and Jesus going the mountain with some of their trusted friends for encounters with the holy.  Moses ends up staying on the mountain for forty days, being enveloped by mysterious clouds of smoke, and receiving commands from God who is represented by a great fire at the top of the mountain. For Moses, to encounter God more directly would have resulted in death.  When he returns to his people to convey the law as he has received it, his face is glowing (a sign to them that he has been exposed to something holy).  It’s as if he’s been temporarily exposed to radiation and the glow eventually fades.  For Moses, this mountain encounter is a pivotal moment in his understanding of what must be done in order to help his people be fully liberated; but he hasn’t been through a metamorphosis per se.  His mission will now be to record, convey and interpret divine commands and laws that he believes, if adhered to properly with faithful obedience, should keep his people from drifted back into trouble and in healthy covenant with God.

Though there are echoes of Moses’ experience in our journey with Jesus up the mountain (a rising leader, born under threat of death, destined to lead his people to a better life, now ascending a mounting for enlightenment and instruction), something quite different occurs with our Lord, signaling that what follows his mountain encounter will have different implications for us that Moses’ journey.  It is Jesus himself who is revealed as the radioactive source of light in this case.  And, his face doesn’t just glow; it shines like the sun and his clothes like a dazzling, radiant white.  Then there appears both Moses and Elijah, representing the Law and the Prophets, calling forth in the Jewish memory Malachi’s sign of the end-times when the Law and Prophets would come together, “Remember the teaching of my servant Moses…. Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes” (Mal 4:4-5).  And, in context of the stories in Matthew that we’ve been hearing this Epiphany season, we know that this radiant Christ doesn’t just recite law as handed down by Moses, he actually expands on it (“you have heard it said… now I say to you…) with a sense of divinely derived authority.  And, importantly, this more direct encounter with the Divine through Christ does not result in literal death; but we are told that union with Christ results in the death of our former selves.

How does this encounter affect the disciples?  Peter follows an initial instinct (perhaps with the wide-eyed nodding heads of his fellow disciples as a sign of their consent) to want to dwell here with these three prophetic elders and remain sheltered – to bask in the glory of the moment.  But the paradigm shift that is occurring will not allow any such attempt to stay up there on that mountain, away from the people and struggles below.  God’s presence overcomes them and they hear God’s voice repeating what was said at Jesus’ baptism – “this is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased…” with the added emphasis this time, “listen to him!” (we might hear in this command – listen, learn, and follow)  Now, more fully recognizing the divine power that they are face-to-face with, they fall to the ground in fear (that’s how they’ve learned to react in the presence of God – remember this is a great and ‘terrible’ day when the Lord comes).  Rather than the Divine being pleased with having instilled fear and trembling, Christ immediately reaches out to connect with them, tells them to have no fear, and instructs them to “get up”, there’s work to be done.  There is a sort of resurrection occurring here – a death to fear and a rising up of a new relationship with God – more accessible and interpersonal, more immediately loving and compassionate.

I’m left wondering if this encounter was really about Jesus’ need to go up the mountain to connect with Moses and Elijah in order to be re-formed and prepared for the rest of his mission and ministry… or, if this story is more about initiating the metamorphosis that takes place among the disciples, preparing them to re-form the body of the church to carry on Christ’s interpersonal mission… a process that continues in their encounter with the risen Christ and then with the reception of his Holy Spirit at Pentecost… and process that continues in us today as we encounter Christ through our baptism and in love with our neighbors… an experience of the metamorphosis of the elements on the altar, and a re-modeling of our own lives in a new light having received them.

LIGHT

This also causes me to take a moment to reflect on our relationship with light.  We take light for granted in our context here today and mostly think of it as a physical utility or commodity.  It’s not so miraculous anymore or spiritually significant.  We expect light wherever we go – if it’s not already being provided for us automatically on the street, at home, at work, at church, etc. we’ve come to believe that if it’s dark, we need only flip a switch and there will be light.  Our city lights are so bright at night that they flood out the stars above.  It’s even a whimsical luxury for some modern urban dwellers to travel to the country to look in awe at a night sky twinkling with star light.

Yet, for our ancestors, light-on-demand was rare. Other than from direct sunlight during the daytime and by the periodic full moon on some nights, there was a lot of darkness.  Light in the shadows or at night was a precious thing that resulted from labor and attention – camp fires, torches, lamps that needed oil, candles, etc..  Without directly sunlight or special effort and materials, the world was normatively dark – the streets, the homes, fields and pastures, places of work and worship were otherwise pitch black.  The darkness often represented mystery and danger, literally and figuratively.  When there was no light, you remained ‘in the dark’ and subject to whatever evil might lurk there.  

So, it’s no wonder that in our holy stories, miraculous “light” is an evocative metaphor and image for divine power.  To have something other than the sun become luminous or to shine on its own was something that warranted awe, perhaps fear, thanksgiving, and certainly reverence.  To be given light was a gift.  Light revealed what otherwise would not, could not be seen and as source of life.

Just a small sampling of how light is used in scriptures: God said, “Let there be light” (Gen 1:3, not Westar).  “The sun will no more be your light by day, nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you, for the Lord will be your everlasting light” (Isa 60:19). “The city does not need the sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp” (Rev 21:23). “You are the light of the world…. Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven” (Mat 5:14). “I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).  On the road to Damascus, Paul is suddenly surrounded by bright light before encountering Christ (Acts 9:3). We are told that we are to become children of light.  And, we’re told that “God made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ” (2 Cor 4:6).

Perhaps in some of these examples, we can begin to realize that even in our artificially illuminated world today, we, too, experience moments of en-lightenment, when a flash of God’s glory, the light of God’s love helps us ‘see’ through the darkness around us, even if only for a moment.  The smile of a stranger just at that moment that we’re about to lose our cool under the stresses of the day.  The phone call from a friend or family member that comes at just the right time.  The inspiring image of an unarmed man facing down a line of military tanks in Tiananmen Square.  The sounds of spontaneous hymns being sung in the streets of Haiti after a massive earthquake.  Or, in what Nic and the other student missionaries are likely to experience this summer in southern Kenya.

MISSION

As this college team follows Jesus amid the mountains outside of Nairobi and into an impoverished valley village, they will be leaving their comfort zones, encountering some dim realities, and perhaps feeling some fear and trembling at times.  Yet it will be Jesus who will continually touch them compassionately and say ‘do not fear.’  Where will they encounter divine light and metamorphosis?  After they have listened to the stories of these resilient people; after the students have labored with them to lay bricks and assemble roofs; when the students reach out their hands to widows and children who have been struggling to live in a weather-beaten tents for the past four years after having been violently driven from their previous homes which are now in ruins; when those mothers and children step through the door of their new homes and turn around to look the students in the eyes and smile… and when our student missionaries smile back…. the light of Christ will shine in that moment.  What a metamorphosis that will be… for the mother, her children, and for our student missionaries.  When they return home to share what they have experienced about the expansiveness of God’s family and the power of compassionate love for each other, the paradigm shift that began on that mountain long ago will continue.

LIGHT WITHIN YOU

Christ calls us all to leave the luminance of the mountain encounter, return to the valleys of life, and tend to the needs of our brothers and sisters there.  Christ calls each of us to re-form and re-model our notions of scarcity and abundance in order to better serve the entire family of God.  Christ confronts each of us with opportunities for metamorphosis through interpersonal encounters in which we stoke the divine spark of light within each other.

One author (Marianne Williamson in her 1992 book A Return to Love) has written poignantly addressing our ambivalence about fully living and loving with this God-ignited, transfiguring light within us:

 “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Or, as Christ says, ““You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” (Matt 5:14-16).

AMEN.