QUINQUAGESIMA – THE SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE LENT 14 February 2021 Readings: 2 Kings 2.1-12; Psalm 50.1-6; 2 Corinthians 4.3-6; Mark 9.2-9 This year is a little unusual in that we only marked the true end of the liturgical Christmas and Epiphany season two weeks ago with Candlemas, and now today we’re already beginning to look towards Easter. This year Easter is early, and the build-up to that begins really from today. Next Wednesday, Ash Wednesday, we mark the beginning of Lent, with the incorporation into the service of Holy Communion and Ashing of those sobering words which remind us of the reality of our basic humanity: “we are but dust, and to dust we shall return”. However, in our Gospel reading today, the veil of Jesus’ humanity is temporarily drawn back as we catch a brief glimpse of him in divine glory. Set as it is between Christmas and Easter, we look upon the Transfiguration as a pivotal point not only in the Church’s year, but also in the life of Jesus Christ and also, coincidentally, it marks the virtual central point in Mark’s Gospel. Before the Transfiguration, Jesus went about his work of healing, curing, and performing miracles but, from the Transfiguration onwards the mood changes as we begin, with Jesus, to look towards Jerusalem and the awful events leading to his terrible death on the cross. When considering Jesus’ Transfiguration, we shouldn’t necessarily approach it with the assumption that we can understand it. To be “transfigured” is to be changed in outward form or appearance. Jesus’ Transfiguration doesn’t alter who he is inwardly, but simply gives to those who see the changed image a new depth of understanding they didn’t previously have, as they see him in His glorious holiness and divinity. On my recent pilgrimage to the Holy Land, I saw much to substantiate some of the events which we read about in the Bible, even events way, way back in the Old Testament. There is, however, nothing to substantiate Jesus’ Transfiguration, and any possible historical origins to this story are probably irretrievably lost. We need to look upon it as one of the events in Jesus’ life which we believe in with faith but which defy explanation, like perhaps the virgin birth, or the burning bush which Moses witnessed – a bush well alight and flaming, but which doesn’t in any way become consumed by the fire. The Transfiguration similarly draws us to the limits of our faith and imagination – into something seemingly abnormal and unnatural, but nevertheless full of awe and power - an actual event which confronted Peter, James and John with unexpected reality. It’s easy enough to dismiss such an experience as a hallucination, but Jewish scriptures and traditions tell of various events like this, when the veil of ordinariness which normally prevents us from seeing the “inside” of a person or situation, is drawn back, revealing a fuller and deeper reality. We might nowadays speak of “lightbulb moments” when our minds suddenly break through the complexity of something which we subsequently begin to understand with more depth and clarity. Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians chapter 13 verse 12 compares the dimness of our human, earthly vision with the eternal: For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully …”. Most of us never witness events like the Transfiguration, or anything approaching it but, unless we’re prepared to allow sceptics to have their way, we should feel confident in affirming that this sort of thing has indeed happened to some people, and that such people usually regard it as hugely important and even life-changing. I remember saying only a few weeks ago that being a Christian from birth has probably, in a way, deprived me of any “born-again” experience which, equally, some of you may have enjoyed and which will no doubt have been deeply profound and life-changing events. Something else which appears to corroborate this story is in the detail, in Peter’s awkward suggestion that he build three booths, no doubt attempting not only to prolong what was to them all an unbelievably beautiful and profound moment, but trying to hook it in to one of the Jewish festivals, namely the Feast of the Tabernacles. As the disciples often did, Peter missed the point completely, of course, in thinking of the three figures as being on a par, attempting to honour Jesus by ranking him alongside Moses and Elijah, completely contradicting his own declaration in the previous chapter of Mark that Jesus “is the Messiah” (8.27). Moses and Elijah may have been great in their various ways in preparing the way, but the one here who shines brighter than all else is Jesus, the one true prophet, the Messiah, the One who has come to complete anything which Moses and Elijah, and others like them, might have begun. Of course, in all of this, we’re once again, as we tend to do in examining Bible passages, trying to rationalise a very divine first century event with our very human 21st century minds, perhaps completely failing to try to consider the situation from a higher perspective. If we take a step back and assess what has happened in the gospel so far, we’re faced with Jesus having, metaphorically, led the disciples up a high mountain for a different, new, view of God’s kingdom. Now, in an extraordinary situation, also on a high mountain, he has unveiled for them the reality of that holy kingdom. Jesus has opened the eyes of the three disciples and revealed himself to them as he will be when he comes in glory. We have a glimpse of the inner reality of God’s kingdom – really seeing Jesus as the Messiah. Many other cultures have always accepted that the world we live in has many layers, many dimensions, and sometimes these dimensions, which normally remain hidden, may appear – perhaps in our own “lightbulb moments” or “born again” experiences - after which life is never quite the same again and from when we always see things differently. Immediately prior to the Transfiguration, after Peter’s admission that Jesus was the Messiah, Jesus foretold his own death and resurrection, to which Peter expressed serious objection. Jesus then began to teach his disciples the sacrificial nature of discipleship (8.31-38). In the Transfiguration we hear God speaking, confirming Jesus’ true identity: ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!’ (Mark 9.7). Thus He not only echoes His own words at Jesus’ baptism, when He spoke directly and intimately to Jesus: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased”. (Mark 1.11), but also confirms Peter’s conclusion that Jesus is “the Messiah”. In instructing the three not to tell anyone “until the Son of Man is raised from the dead”, Jesus gives them the best hint yet of the imminent fate awaiting him, at the same time gently leading them forward. And this is the turning point in Jesus’ life. We spoke already of Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, being another turning point, grounding us in the reality of our humanity. The power of the Transfiguration is that it also prepares us to come to terms with our humanity, our earthly nature, and our utter dependence upon God. And it plants in our hearts and minds a foreshadowing of the brilliance, the shining radiance of eternity, emboldening us for our earthly journey together as the body of Christ, as we move towards our eternity with Him. From today, Jesus begins to signal the way ahead, and this begins immediately he and his disciples come down from the mountain. Immediately after the very divine and glorious mountaintop experience, Jesus and his disciples descend into a very human catastrophe, jolting them abruptly back into a very raw, human situation. A crowd has gathered round a boy with a spirit which convulses him. The disciples who had not ascended the mountain had tried to cast out the spirit, but had failed. Jesus quite unequivocally told them that their failure resulted from their lack of prayer. This warning of lack of prayer is clearly for us all. It’s sometimes difficult to pray, or at least to pray in depth and at length, with true sincerity and devotion and complete dedication, and we’re not alone in our struggles. But I think the point is that prayer is one way by which we in our humanity can begin to connect with Jesus’ divinity, and I can’t think of a better time than Lent for us to concentrate our efforts on this. We aren’t likely ourselves to encounter anything remotely like the divine experience of those three disciples, but we’re able, nevertheless, to try to connect with Jesus, and He’s just waiting to hear our prayers. It’s been a recurring theme over the past few weeks in the syllabus I follow when addressing the children of a local school, that God isn’t remotely interested in our possessions, or what we wear, or our status in life. He’s not the slightest bit concerned about what’s on the outside of our bodies, only on what’s going on inside our hearts. Jesus only cares that we love and care for others. He cares about the type of people we are. That we follow the example He set for us to live by, and that we love others as he loved us.