11 Feb SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 2024

A while later, Jesus takes three close companions up a high mountain apart by themselves. Then he was transfigured before them.

How many of you ever read the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes? In case you have no idea what I’m referring to, Calvin invented a machine called the transmogrifier. It was an upside down cardboard box which could magically turn one thing into another. Like Peter, James and John, only Calvin and Hobbes could see transfiguration or transmogrification occur.

Everyone else saw things as normal in their regular forms. Through the cartoon artist’s drawings, imagination was not confined to Calvin’s head, it became visible. That’s the aim of Mark’s gospel writer. He allowed us to see the imaginable, Jesus’ transfiguration.

His clothes became dazzling white, like no one on earth could bleach them. Furthermore, there appeared Elijah with Moses, talking with Jesus. The painting of this scene proves that there is a coherent connecting thread between prophets of old and Jesus, a connection that goes way, way back to the time when the LORD was about to take Elijah up to heaven by a whirlwind.

At that time, Elisha vows to accompany Elijah on his journey against his wishes. A company of prophets foretells what will take place. Elisha says, “Yes, I know, but I don’t want to hear or talk more about it.

Elijah behaves exactly the opposite of Jesus. Elijah keeps trying to separate and remove himself, to shield others from the scene of his departure. Instead, Jesus invites his companions, and through the words of Mark, invites us to see what happens upon death with their very own eyes.

Jesus invites us to see that what we anticipate as frightening or horrible is nothing of the sort. Though the distance to travel is great and where the Lord calls those about to depart from our sight keeps changing direction, Elijah and Jesus have but one aim: to convince those of us left behind that the journey yet to be taken is a solitary one. If we’re lucky, we may be present and invited to serve as witnesses. Not everyone is lucky firsthand. Therefore Jesus selects and personally escorts a few of his choice who then relay their experience. That’s meant to be enough to encourage us. There is something amazing to behold, though not everyone gets to see it firsthand.

Reluctantly Elijah permits Elisha and fifty men of the company of prophets to accompany them and stand by the Jordan. Elijah performs a miracle by using his mantle to part the water so the two of them cross the Jordan on dry ground. Elijah shares his anxious thoughts about leaving. He wants to do something for Elisha and pleads to know how he might help him in his absence.

Elisha asks, “Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit.” Elijah responds, “You’ve asked a hard thing; yet, if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted you; if not, it will not.” We are obsessed with being there to see a person depart, to witness the transformation that takes place between this world and the next.

Eventually, separation occurs. Desperate feelings arise. Like Elisha’s clothing, we are grasped violently and torn apart. Peter illustrates our natural human tendency to respond by thinking of what else can be done. We fantasize about erecting permanent dwellings that might preserve the presence of a loved one eternally and somehow keep them in the present moment. But instead, their appearance is fleeting. It doesn’t last. Terror set in right before a cloud overshadowed them and a voice from the cloud spoke to them.

It was God’s voice saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!”

God is the cartoon artist who allows our imagination to flourish and bring what we envision to life. It’s but a fleeting experience, a brief moment where we aren’t worried, confused or anxious. We look around, they see no one with us anymore but Jesus.

Knowing they will never forget what it looked like for the mortal to put on immortality, the corruptible, incorruptibility, for death be ushered in by a whirlwind, chariot and horsemen, dazzling white brightness, perfect in beauty, shining forth with glory, as they were coming down the mountain, back down to earth figuratively and literally, Jesus ordered them all to tell no one about what they had seen until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

Paul seems to suggest that if we believe, we will see and not perish. Our mind’s eye will not be veiled and kept from seeing the light of the gospel. The light of the gospel is not a what, but a who, Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ, the firstborn from the dead, who was God and created human beings made in the image of God.

There is no order for us not to tell what we have seen. I am so encouraged by your stories and those of patients who tell me how the presence of a deceased loved one was palpably felt beside them, how the appearance of unnatural light or a ball of color did not frighten, but comfort them, how a conversation took place between their loved one and long departed family member during a time of liminality, when life hung in the balance and leaned toward death.

That’s what we’ve witnessed today along with Peter, James and John: a place of liminality, a sensory threshold where ambiguity and disorientation occur, an intermediate phase where in our humanity, we panic and become desperate to do something. Like Peter, Elisha and Elijah we want to help and/or extend our ability to positively influence the future, somehow. Make it possible, Lord.

If you think about it, what we are privy to today is a mountaintop experience. Witnessing the kind of thing that changes people’s lives and stays with them after they descend and return to the plains or valleys in which they live. The question is: will you be transfigured yourself as a result of knowing that transfiguration is possible.

Unlike a momentary glimpse of perfect splendor, human transformation takes place by degrees. It happens gradually and most often takes place over time through a series of events and life experiences. What’s important is to not forget the encouragement given.

When Elijah said to Elisha, “Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you.” It was because Elijah understood what his leaving would entail. How it would change everything in Elisha’s world instantly. So he had a deep desire to somehow continue to care for Elisha after departing. He wished to make provisions in his absence.

And it wasn’t just about financial security guaranteed through the purchase of life insurance. It was about the one about to be left behind inheriting a double portion of Elijah’s spirit. That’s what he thinks will make living without Elijah possible. That’s what he thinks it’ll take to keep going in his absence.

In the gospel reading, we see Jesus wishing to do the same. He knows that he’s about to leave the presence of his disciples. He knows they’re going to feel abandoned regardless of what they know intellectually. After his death, their spirits will be halved, so they’re going to need a double portion of the spirit from the person to whom they’ve devoted themselves.

Haven’t we been there? Either as an elder wanting to provide for the younger generation or as the younger generation afraid of floundering without guidance and the presence of people to whom we are attached, who we can’t imagine living without? It is human nature for us to provide for those we love and once loved to secretly hope that we will never be abandoned.

We are like Elisha, greatly attached through bonds of strong relationships, we are intertwined and draw strength from each other, there are some people we’ve vowed to be with or follow wherever they might be called, and often, that person is someone whose life is central to our identity, from whom we never wished to become separated.

These are feelings understood by God himself and the Lord, Jesus Christ. Elijah speaks for Jesus when hearing that what we wish from our lifelong companion or loved one is a double share of that person’s spirit. Give me two portions of yourself, let your spirit stay with me though your body be whisked from my sight into heaven.

Elijah responds, “You ask a hard thing. Perhaps it’s possible. I don’t know for sure because I haven’t left you yet.” And Jesus hasn’t left us. I wonder if the fact that he allowed everyone to witness his ascension into heaven connects to Elijah’s response. If you see me as I am being taken from you, you will be granted a double share of my spirit. If you do not, you will not.”

Didn’t Jesus send his Holy Spirit to dwell with each of us? To guide and teach, comfort and console us in a loved one’s absence, through the experience of being physically disconnected? Isn’t the presence of the Holy Spirit in and around us meant to help us grieve loss without feeling abandoned, to help relieve our suffering and worry such that eventually we may experience a contentment of sorts, which in turn, might allow us to continue to live and thrive in spite of all that happened?

Listen to what Paul says. “…we do not proclaim ourselves,” in other words, “The life we’re living is not all about us.” Oh, great. That helps, right? He goes on to say, “It’s about proclaiming Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as slaves for Jesus’ sake.” Yippee. Does that sound awesomely exciting or comforting to you? Maybe not.

But this does, “For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’” What else is grief, than darkness? Paul continues, “God shines within our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” Within our hearts shines a light, a light which gives, a light of knowledge, that allows us to know firsthand, the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”

The life we’re living is not all about us.

Look for this light wherever you go. See it in the face of others. Listen for the voice of God speaking from a cloud or through the presence of the Holy Spirit. Let us pray.

Make us speechless Lord through a firsthand experience of you. Make us aware of your Holy Spirit dwelling in and among us. Give us what we need to thrive in the absence of loved ones. Help us connect to each other through a deep relationship with you. Thanks for caring and sharing all of your divine self, always and in all ways. In your holy name we pray, Amen.