Sermons

Next week’s sermon:  Mark 1:9-13: “Wild Beasts.…”

For previous weeks’ sermons, please contact Pastor Vince or Pastor Susan.

2/19/12
Mark 9:2-9 “FOND MEMORIES, FONDER HOPES”

 The gospel passage we just heard from Mark tells the story of a memory, a glorious memory. That mystery that we call “the Transfiguration of Jesus Christ” rises as one sweet memory above the painful ones that come just before it and just after it.
 Just before this episode, in the previous chapter, Jesus had asked his disciples one of those “fork in the road” questions. “Who do people say that I am?” They answer that some think he is John the Baptist. Others think that he is Elijah, the Old Testament prophet whose dramatic exit we heard about in the first passage I read. There was a venerable Jewish tradition that this Elijah would return one day and usher in a new era of peace and justice. But then Jesus sharpens the question, “But who do you say I am?” Peter answers point-blank and boldly, “You are the Messiah.” This was a major confession. Peter was affirming that Jesus of Nazareth was in fact the Anointed One, the long-awaited One through whom God would do a new thing. Now none of this was in today’s reading, but you need this background to see that the spectacular memory of today is bracketed on each side-before and after-by memories of another, darker kind.
 After Peter confesses that he believes Jesus to be the Anointed One, Jesus breaks some sickening news to the disciples. He reminds them that because of this very identity that Peter has named, he, Jesus, will have to suffer rejection and death. And then in the verses that come right before today’s story of the Transfiguration, Jesus tells his disciples what it’s going to cost them to be his followers, taking up a cross , denying themselves, getting in line behind him.
 Now above all this foreshadowing of dark things, today’s mountain story rises above a brooding plain. Jesus takes Peter, John, and James up to a lonely mountain to pray. There, in the depth of prayer, something I for one do not pretend to understand happens. Jesus glory’ shines through in some brilliant way. The Greek word that describes this mystery is “metemorphothe,”-the verb form of the word “metamorphosis.” And just as suddenly another vision: Jesus flanked by the symbolic Old Testament figures of Moses and Elijah, standing, respectively, for the Law and the Prophets, in other words, standing for Tradition with a capital “T.”
 For Peter, this experience is a wonderful “upper” coming just after the “downers” of the previous day and the sorrow that awaits in Jerusalem. It is a glorious moment, and Peter, caught up in a spiritual high, says in effect, “Let’s just stay up on this nice mountain. Let’s make us 3 little worship centers, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah, and we’ll just stay here.” Peter wants the memory to last. He wants to hang on to the moment by building a “Jesus, Moses, and Elijah Museum,” so that they can all stay up on the mountain and be happy forever after. Peter has been told what is coming and he would just as soon not face that future of betrayal, and dashed hopes and suffering and crucifixion that Jesus has talked about just before they went up that mountain. Indeed, just 2 chapters later, they will be on the road to Jerusalem and all the suffering that awaits there.
 Now I for one, do not want to put Peter down here at all. His reaction is so natural. And his reaction, I think, points to 2 ways that you and I employ fond memories, those glory moments of life.
 One choice we make with our memories is Peter’s first reaction: let’s just retreat into memory. Let’s live there. Let’s emotionally decamp to the past. It is really alluring to hunker down with the sweet memory and just settle in. When the future swarms with unknowns, how secure it is for us to just hide away in history.
 The other choice is to take those fond memories, those glory moments, and find in them the nourishment for fonder hopes and an even more glorious future. Memory can be an escape, or memory can light the way when the present is unclear and the future is dark. Jesus refuses Peter’s request to stay on the mountain. A sentence later they are on the path back down into the real world. But Peter’s memory of that mountaintop was something he would carry with him through the week of confusion and betrayal and shattered dreams and innocent death on Good Friday in Jerusalem. And it’s my guess that the memory gave him hope through it all.
 Now I am going to do something that I have never done in a sermon before. In a moment, I am going to sit down and be quiet, and let you remember some sweet memory in your past. Maybe it was one of those moments in family life when nobody was mad or pouting, and the love was right there in the room. Perhaps it will be some moment of personal achievement, that time when something you were struggling to do was finally completed and recognized. May be it will be a vacation moment, a beach, a mountain, a dinner. Or maybe it will be some random moment of bliss that found you for no obvious reason. For 3 minutes, let your memory take you.
 Now, as you return from your reverie, remember the choice that lay before Peter and always lies before you and me. You can retreat into fond memory or you can build hope on the rock of memory. Again and again in life, it is the memory of good things that assures us in times of doubt and despair that the good is possible.
 When a job has become drudgery, remember. Remember the times when work brought satisfaction, and in such memory find hope that work can have purpose again.
 When life at home is a rat race, remember that time when laughter echoed around the dinner table, remember the best of all family vacations. Alive in these memories is the hope that the present rat race isn’t all there is to your life together.
 When marriage is stale, remember, remember the moments when your love for each other transfigured your life, and in that memory find hope that such fullness is possible.
 When meaning seems to have slipped from your life, remember when your days were full and purposeful, and know that because it once was, it can be so again.
 When injustice seems to reign in this world, remember a time when justice triumphed, and know that justice is possible. When the possibility of peace seems remote, remember that the world has known times when tranquility reigned.
 When your faith is dry as bones and nothing, not even God, seems clear or trustworthy, remember a time when faith shined, and in that memory know that faith can be lively again.
 When your life passes through some pain or loss, remember some sweet day.
 When the dark reality of the moment is betrayal and defeat, remember some bright day.
 When some cross looms before you, remember a courageous day. For in the remembering of that goodness, you will know that life really can be good. LET US PRAY.