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Scripture:
Each of us, even the greatest among us, shall die. The story I
am about to read tells of the events leading to the death of the
greatest of the Prophets, Elijah. Before we die, most of us must
find a way to give to our successor something of who we are our
wealth, our wisdom, our power. When the survivor is full of love
and devotion, the transition is intense. Hear now the story of the
transfer of leadership from the Prophet Elijah to his successor,
Elisha, as presented in the Second book of Kings, Chapter 2, verses
1-12:
Now when the LORD was about to take Elijah up to heaven by a
whirlwind, Elijah and Elisha were on their way from Gilgal. [2]
Elijah said to Elisha, "Stay here; for the LORD has sent
me as far as Bethel." But Elisha said, "As the LORD
lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you." So
they went down to Bethel. [3] The company of prophets who were
in Bethel came out to Elisha, and said to him, "Do you know
that today the LORD will take your master away from you?"
And he said, "Yes, I know; keep silent."[4] Elijah said
to him, "Elisha, stay here; for the LORD has sent me to Jericho."
But he said, "As the LORD lives, and as you yourself live,
I will not leave you." So they came to Jericho. [5] The company
of prophets who were at Jericho drew near to Elisha, and said
to him, "Do you know that today the LORD will take your master
away from you?" And he answered, "Yes, I know; be silent."[6]
Then Elijah said to him, "Stay here; for the LORD has sent
me to the Jordan." But he said, "As the LORD lives,
and as you yourself live, I will not leave you." So the two
of them went on. [7] Fifty men of the company of prophets also
went, and stood at some distance from them, as they both were
standing by the Jordan. [8] Then Elijah took his mantle and rolled
it up, and struck the water; the water was parted to the one side
and to the other, until the two of them crossed on dry ground.
[9] When they had crossed, Elijah said to Elisha, "Tell
me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you." Elisha
said, "Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit."
[10] He responded, "You have 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." [11] As they continued walking and
talking, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two
of them, and Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven. [12]
Elisha kept watching and crying out, "Father, father! The
chariots of Israel and its horsemen!" But when he could no
longer see him, he grasped his own clothes and tore them in two
pieces.
What do we do when we are given a glimpse into our future? Such
revelations are often scary. Are we able to make the appropriate
adjustments on our lives to take into account what the revelation
has taught us? Or do we try to capture the moment, like hitting
the "pause" on the VCR, hoping to preserve its luminescence
and truth. Let's see what the disciples do when Jesus gives them
a glimpse of what is in store for him, and for them, as it is
told in Mark 9, 2-9:
Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John,
and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was
transfigured before them, [3] and his clothes became dazzling
white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. [4] And there
appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus.
[5] Then Peter said to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to
be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses,
and one for Elijah." [6] He did not know what to say, for
they were terrified. [7] Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from
the cloud there came a voice, "This is my Son, the Beloved;
listen to him!" [8] Suddenly when they looked around, they
saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. [9] As they were
coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about
what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from
the dead.
SERMON:
It is a great privilege to serve God as a parish minister. Over
time, as trust deepens, people have shared with me experiences
which they don't often reveal to others. Many of these are epiphanies
dazzling glimpses of God that are gone as quickly as they appear.
Because of these confidential discussions, I am convinced that
having a profound religious experience is part of each person's
life. Yet, for the most part, we pay little or no attention to
these nuggets, leaving them to simmer in the center of our soul.
When children have these experiences, they often comment by asking
a question. This begins very early in life, and continues until
a grown up gives them the message that by asking an unanswerable
question these children are making everyone feel uncomfortable.
After a while, the child's window on her soul begins to cloud
over.
As adults we usually keep these experiences to ourselves. Many
of you have read books on spirituality by Morton Kelsey. Years
ago, he did a survey of Roman Catholic laypeople which revealed
that most of them had had a mystical, life-changing experience.
He also discovered that few of them had ever told anyone about
it. The reason they gave was that: "They would have thought
I was crazy."
In our Inquirers' Classes, everyone has an opportunity to share
with others how it is with them and God. I am always amazed by
the depth of people's stories, and reminded that just below the
surface of each of us is a beautiful, dark, virtually unexplored
cavern of spiritual experience which many of us can go a lifetime
without sharing.
I emphasize these tunnels to the transcendent for two reasons.
First, because I believe that such experiences are universal,
I am persuaded that the primary difference between a religious
person and a person who does not think of herself as religious
is that the religious person allows herself to be influenced by
these experiences. Most of us would do well to take more time
to look at our religious life to attend to the ways in which God
is breaking in on our lives and where shall we do that, if not
here in church?!
Secondly, if we tune in on those times in our life when we have
glimpsed the eternal, or caught a glance of God, we will discover
how profoundly the two texts which we have just heard can speak
to us.
The story of Elijah and Elisha focuses on the transfer of power
from one great leader to the next. Because life is always changing,
we are all involved in such transfers all the time. Usually though,
it's a little less obvious. Yesterday, we held a retreat for church
leaders. Two of our revered elders who have each been members
at Plymouth since the 40s commented that they had each sat in
their respective pews for the better part of five decades, but
recently, with so many new families in the church, unless they
arrive a little early, their favorite place might be taken by
an unknowing visitor or new member. In one case, the younger family
happens to be third generation Plymouth Church-goers so they represent
continuity of a different kind. To anyone who has received half
a century of comfort and challenge from a distinct position in
the pews, to be uprooted, however unintentionally, is startling.
Upon reflection, I think that this story offers renewed motivation
to greet the person next to us, or behind us, and learn a little
about his or her history here at Plymouth.
Let me share another story about transition. From the time my
oldest son, Luke, began kindergarten until we moved here last
year, he and I ran the mile long Fun Run sponsored by his elementary
school every spring. It was a distinct opportunity for me to pass
on to him my love of sport, competition, and attitudes toward
the body and performance. When he was in third grade, on one training
run, he accelerated so fast with 200 yards to go that I could
not catch him. I smiled as he sprinted, thinking that the day
was soon coming when his abilities in running, and in many other
areas too, would eclipse mine . . . . and that someday, the time
would come when he and I would fondly remember such runs, as I
lie on a bed, ready to pass on to whatever God has in store for
me in the next life.
This was just a momentary glimpse of the future a revelation
amidst adrenaline, endorphins, and exhaustion. But I will not
forget that moment however brief it was. It revealed a portion
of truth, and in it, I touched something of the meaning of what
this life is all about.
Elisha is anxious about what the future will hold without his
mentor, Elijah. Elisha pledges not to leave Elijah's side, for
fear that Elijah will be taken without Elisha knowing. It is a
story each of us can embrace, for each one of us would do most
anything to be by the side of a loved one during the final moments
of that person's life. As these two prophets move from village
to village, they are actually descending lower and lower from
the high regions to the wilderness of the desert floor. Thus,
they are removing themselves from the arena of ordinary life,
because they have some extra-ordinary matters to resolve. Finally,
knowing that he himself is near death, Elijah asks if there is
anything which he can do for Elisha. The opportunity is not lost
on Elisha. Immediately, Elisha asks for a double share of Elijah's
spirit the same spirit that allowed Elijah to bring life out of
death (1 Kings 17:17-24), to confront kings and destabilize established
power (1 Kings 21: 1-24), and to engage rival gods so that the
truth of the God of Israel might be revealed (1 Kings 18-19).
This is not because he desires to out do Elijah, but because in
Hebrew tradition the elder son receives a double portion of inheritance,
and Elisha, although he is not a begotten son, is prepared to
take over as the senior prophet of Israel.
Elijah cannot underwrite such a request. The spirit he possesses
is God's blessing which rests upon him it is not his to give.
This reminds me of the kinds of assurances which so many of us
desire when we find ourselves in a spiritual crunch. We may want
a sure sign that our prayers have been answered; or that a friend
has been physically healed, or that our children will be safe
from harm. As Elijah points out to Elisha, these are "hard"
requests. Elijah offers a chance for the spirit, and a test that
will indicate to Elisha if his request has been granted.
Amidst the tenderness of their intimate conversation, alone,
yet together in the wilderness, they are suddenly separated by
a fiery chariot, which steals Elijah from his successor, and launches
Elisha into fits of grief. It is an event of wonder unrivaled
in all of Holy Scripture.(1) And amidst the pyrotechnics, Elisha
does in fact continue to see Elijah as he ascends, until he finally
goes out of sight. Then, knowing that the torch has been passed,
and that he, Elisha, has received a double-dose of spirit (and
with it, a double dose of responsibility) Elisha rents his robe
and cries. To this aggrieved soul now passes the power and authority
to witness to God's greatness.
Each of us undergoes a similar transition. From our parents,
or perhaps from a beloved mentor, we receive a dose of spirit.
If their death is imminent, the intensity of our feelings can
hardly be measured. Of course we want a double-dose of their spirit.
After all, how else will we be able to carry on their special
legacy? Yet it is one thing to want to receive that spirit, and
quite another thing to be qualified to know what to do with it
IF and when we do receive it.
Such is the case with the three disciples whom Jesus selects
to accompany him high up a mountain. Without any warning, Jesus
is transfigured before them. This is Jesus' way of attempting
to get through to the disciples, who up to that point had been
rather thick headed and resistant to Jesus' teaching. Just before
this passage, Jesus reveals to the disciples his identity as the
Messiah, but adds that he must suffer many things, and be rejected,
and killed. (Mark 8:31) This contradicts everything the disciples
understand about the role of the Messiah.
But then it gets worse. Jesus tells them that if they are to
be his disciples, each must deny himself, and take up his cross,
and follow Jesus (Mark 8:34).This last bit of instruction has
them reeling!
Six days later, in the passage we read a few minutes ago, Jesus
takes his three lead disciples up the mountain. If Jesus could
not get his message across to the disciples by teaching them,
perhaps he could get it across through a brilliant show of light
and sound. So he gives them this glimpse, in which Jesus engages
in conversation with Moses and Elijah with the law and the prophets
and God's voice from a cloud addresses Peter, James and John to
assure them of Jesus' identity. Without a doubt, this brief glimpse
into the future, this peek at what is to come, is offered as a
way of elevating the disciples out of their confusion.
Unfortunately, it doesn't work. Peter's bungling continues when
he suggests erecting some buildings to house the images which
are only fleetingly present. He wants to freeze frame the event.
Perhaps they could run down the mountain and bring the other disciples
up to see; maybe he just thought that it would make a good photo
opportunity. But even Mark's narration tells us that he was simply
blabbering in the midst of fear.
So back down the mountain they go; back to healing, and casting
out demons, and further examples of the disciples not understanding
what their lives are caught up in. Jesus is exasperated, and at
one point says, "How much longer must I put up with you?"
(Mark 9:19). Jesus tries to teach them about what lies ahead,
first for him, and then for his followers, but the disciples do
not understand, and are afraid to ask him further questions (Mark
9:32).
The middle section of the Gospel of Mark begins and ends with
Jesus restoring sight to a blind man. Amidst the healing, Jesus
tries to lead the disciples from their blindness, both by teaching
them, and by being transfigured before them. Although he restores
the sight of the two who had been physically blind, Jesus fails
at his attempt to enlighten the disciples.
If the transfiguration didn't work for the disciples, perhaps
it can work for you and for me. It offers a glimpse into the reality
of who Jesus is. It comes to us mid way between Jesus' birth and
his death on a cross as a wake up call. Though it is only a brief
glimpse, if we are able truly to see the reality which it presents,
it offers us all the assurance we will ever need to face whatever
hardship or challenge life can present.
The key to this is to allow ourselves truly to see what is being
revealed not only in a story about what happened to some disciples
2,000 years ago, but to pay attention to God's continual flirtation
with our lives. Only rarely does God bowl us over. More often,
we are courted with subtle encounters, alluring gestures that
can often be explained away. We need to get into the habit of
cherishing the times we are given such peeks behind the curtain.
How different our lives would be if we gave as much energy to
these encounters as we do to such attention getters as the Simpson
trial.
Like Peter, when we catch a glimpse of God's glory, we often
want it to go on forever. It is, after all, an ecstatic experience.
Whether it's an anthem sung especially well by the choir, or a
hug from a loved one, or a memory of an hysterically funny moment
with your best friend, or a panoramic view from a rocky ledge
we want to extend these experiences, and basque in their warmth.
But we can't. The most we can do is cherish these moments by
recalling them AND speak of them to others.
As we leave the season of Epiphany and prepare for Lent, let
us give thanks for every epiphany through which God has broken
into our lives. And let us decide to make a special place for
these experiences not as relics on a dusty shelf where we park
the moments of our life we cannot explain
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but as glimpses of the future,
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as it breaks in on our present lives;
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as promises of what lies ahead;
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as signals of transcendence which render all
the other experiences of our lives to their true proportions.
In this way, we shall receive a double portion of God's spirit:
for our lives will be so much richer because we will welcome
and affirm these moments of revelation; and those we touch will
recognize in us a difference. It is the difference that can
make all the difference in the world and beyond. Amen.
Footnote:
1. So says Walter Bruggeman in Texts for Preaching, p. 174.
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