Vision and Memory
“As they (the disciples) were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, ‘Do not tell anyone about the vision until the Chosen One has been raised from the dead.’” — Matthew 17:9.
Perspective can mean everything. I had lunch with a colleague this week who traveled over hill and dale to Norwich from Ithaca. This pastor had not been to the Chenango River Valley before and it seems the GPS being used was not particularly friendly or efficient at giving directions.
By the time my friend figuered that out, cell phone towers were scarce. (You know that if you’ve been between here and Ithaca.) So, I waited and I trusted.
Suffice it to say, a lunch scheduled for noon started at about 1:20. Take my word for this: from the perspective of that pastor who lives in Ithaca, a big town compared to Norwich, being lost on the road between here and there must have made that trip feel like a journey to the middle of nowhere. It must have felt like, we, here in Norwich, are a long way from any place. But perspective can mean everything.
This episode brought me back to that time 15 years ago, when this church was in the interviewing process with me as a prospective pastor and I was considering the call here to Norwich. Both members of the Search Committee and the Area Conference Minister at the time, the Rev. Ms. Judy Hjorth, made sure they told me that, while Norwich might be a city, most people considered this a rural ministry.
However, before I came to Norwich, I was an Associate Pastor in the Waldo County Cooperative of Churches, in the State of Maine. There were five churches in this yoked parish. Sundays were interesting. The senior pastor, Jim Wood, and I switched off on alternate Sundays, preaching at three churches one week, two the next. Three, two— you’ve got that, right?
The towns were Brooks, Monroe, Frankfort, Freedom and Jackson. All together, there were just 3,000 people in those five towns. And Brooks was the big town. It had 1,500 of those 3,000 souls. The other 1,500 were spread out over the remaining four towns.
Further, these towns were not exactly next to each other. From Frankfort on the east end of Waldo County to Freedom on the west, was a hair less than 40 miles and pretty near an hour end to end traveling. You know that old Maine saying? “You can’t get there from here.”
Well, those 40 miles were mostly over back roads, roads which twisted and turned, no center stripe, no white stripe on the side. And these were the main drags, the roads which went right through the center of those towns.
I have often thought one way to explain the difference between the situation here in Norwich, in the Southern Tier of New York, and there in Waldo County, Downeast, Maine, is this: there are places on that route from Frankfort to Freedom where I could drive 15 minutes and not see a house. Here, even out on the road between Norwich and Ithaca, it would be hard to walk 15 minutes and not see a house.
All of which is to say, when someone told me by serving the church in Norwich I was doing a rural ministry, I just smiled and nodded and went along with it. Everything is perspective.
Now, aside from the Sunday preaching at two or three churches in Waldo County, I spent at least one day a week in the parish. In that context, where it is so rural, when you visit people, you do not call first to see if they are around. You simply drop in. In fact, calling beforehand is considered something of an insult.
One day (and I still describe this as the most frustrating day I’ve had as a pastor), I cris-crossed Waldo county, looking to make visits, and did not find anyone at home. I complained to the Rev. Mr. Wood, the Senior Pastor, about how frustrating that was. He smiled and asked: “Did you make the effort?”
“Yes,” I said. “Then,” he replied, “you were faithful. You fulfilled your calling. God does not determine how things are in the dominion of God by human rules of success or failure. God asks: ‘are we faithful?’” (Slight pause.) Everything is perspective. (Slight pause.)
And these words are from the Gospel known as Matthew: “As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, ‘Do not tell anyone about the vision until the Chosen One has been raised from the dead.’” (Slight pause.)
The Gospel reading describes an experience of the disciples, a vision of Jesus as The Christ, the Risen Christ, the Messiah. We need to remember several things about this story.
First, to use the fancy word, this is a theophany. A theophany is an experience of God, an experience of the real presence of God. Are human words adequate to describe an experience of God? No. Hence, this is a description of something which cannot be described.
Second, the Gospels, all the Gospels, were written many, many, many years after the resurrection. Scholars think Matthew was written at least 50 years and maybe 60 years after the resurrection.
So, while these words may say something akin to a description offered by individual disciples, this is also clearly a description of how the early church, collectively, a long time after the resurrection, remembered Jesus. The memory of the church, both then and now, holds that Jesus is the Risen Christ, the Messiah.
Last— yes, as we read the story, our tendency is to place ourselves standing next to the disciples— right there. A good description of any event would function that way— invite us to be there.
But given what I’ve just said about theophanies, about the real presence of God, about when the story was written and about the memory of the church— given what I’ve just said— is it possible the story is trying to invite us to do something besides place our selves standing at the side of the disciples? Is it possible this story is inviting us to put things into perspective, for us today? (Slight pause.) Everything is perspective.
So, what might this mean for us, today? Clearly, this description says Jesus is the Christ. But what vision or even visions might that invite us to have? Indeed, what is our understanding of who Jesus is?
What is our vision of God? Do we have a vision of what God has in store for us because of what we hear in this story? Do we have a vision of the places to which God calls us as individuals and as a church, as a community of faith?
In the church to what work are we called? What is our vision of what we should do, who we are because Jesus is the Christ? (Slight pause.)
Perhaps— perhaps the invitation here is simply to be faithful because God is faithful. Perhaps the invitation here is to trust God, to trust Who God is, to trust Who Jesus is and, by extension to trust that the Spirit of God is present with us. After all, a theophany is the real presence of God and our claim, as Christians, is that the Spirit of God lives among us. (Pause.)
Here’s another way to look at this: are we, in the church, called to be a fort? Are we called to circle the wagons? Or are we, in the church, called to be a port— a port of safety, a welcoming place?
Are we called to be faithful by sharing our selves and our belief in the One, Triune God? (Slight pause.) Again, is the church a fort or is the church a port? (Slight pause.)
I know: it’s all in one’s perspective, is it not? And I think the perspective to which the image of a transfigured Jesus calls us is simply this: faithfulness— now, today and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Amen.
03/06/2011
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York
ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Choral Response and Benediction. This is an précis of what was said: “Earlier I said a theophany is a real experience of God but human words are inadequate at describing that experience. It cannot be described. So, sometimes the question arises: did the transfiguration really happen or did it not? The question, itself does not matter. The real questions, the significant questions which the transfiguration presents to us are these: ‘do we trust God?’ ‘Are we faithful?’”
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