Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.
Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”
And he said to them, “Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see that the kingdom of God has come with power.”
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, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. 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.” He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.
Do any of you know someone like Peter? You know, the impulsive, verbally processing, unfiltered friend who is amazing in so many ways, but gets it so wrong so very often? If you can’t think of the Peter in your life, could it quite possibly be you? I’ll let you all just sit with that for a bit.
But don’t get me wrong. Peter is fantastic. He is an amazing complement and foil to this Jesus whom we witness in the gospel of Mark. And I wonder, with the fast-paced nature of Mark’s gospel, if the author understood Peter’s slightly brash and over-excited personality.
Now, I really respect Peter because I could never be Peter. I tend to be more careful and a bit more measured with my words. I like to ease into a thought, try it on for size, and then kind of test it out before sharing it with the public.
Not always, of course. Some of you had heard me say some things. But generally that’s my preferred way of going about in the world.
But not Peter. In these twenty or so verses we read today, he is all over the place! He’s like, “Ooh, ooh, Jesus, I know the answer!” And then, “Stop saying that Jesus!” And then “Let’s stay here forever, Jesus; this is great!” Dude, take it easy.
Now, because I am not a Peter and tend to play it safe, I will likely never be told to “Get behind me, Satan!” But then I will also probably never utter some of the most profound words in scripture, declaring: “You, Jesus, are the Messiah.”
Peter is both transcendent, understanding the nature of Jesus so deeply, and a bumbling fool who is focused all too much on what Jesus calls “human things.”
It’s an interesting division to make: “divine things” versus “human things,” especially because wrapped up in the person of Jesus Christ is both the human and the divine.
I often say in education classes that Jesus isn’t half human, half god. It’s not 50/50.
He is fully human and fully God; 100% both, and the math simply doesn’t add up.
So, on the one hand, if anyone has a say on what is considered human and what is considered divine, it would be Jesus. But on the other hand, if anyone could know how much the two can become intertwined, you’d think it’d be Jesus!
So what is human? And what is divine?
According to our passage today:
But fear is human.
Now, that’s not to say Jesus was never afraid. After all, he was human. But it is to say that in spite of his fear, or because of it, he could practice being brave. Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, “Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear.”
For Jesus, God’s kingdom, the good news of the gospel, liberation and healing (often translated as “salvation” in our scripture) was more important to him than the fear he felt as one embodied in human form.
The juxtaposition of transfiguration and fear, that which is human and divine, captured me this week in my reading of scripture.
This strange word transfiguration is not the same things as transformation. Transformation is when someone or something is changed or remade. Transfiguration, on the other hand, implies a revelation of one's true nature. Jesus is not changed on the mountaintop; rather, he is known and revealed for who he truly is. Transfiguration, then, is an uncovering, a stripping away of pretense and misunderstanding.
There is a vulnerability in that moment of transfiguration, for to be seen and so obviously visible for who you actually are, exposes us in ways that we are not quite used to. Ever since that day in the Garden of Eden, we have been a people who are good at hiding.
But transfiguration does not allow us to hide anymore. Jesus is revealed to those with him on the mountaintop. And who is this Jesus who is revealed?
Jesus is the one in whom humanity and divinity meet, where God becomes flesh and dwells among us.
On this first transfiguration day, a voice from the cloud says, “This is my Son, the beloved.” These are same words that are spoken over him at his baptism in Mark’s first chapter.
And these are same words God speaks over us at our baptisms and every time we are uncovered for who we truly are. At the core of all our pretense, when our fears and masks are stripped away, when our true nature is revealed, we are all simply children of God, called and claimed by a God who says, “You are my child, my beloved.”
There is nothing you have done or left undone that could make this more true or less true. In God, we find an unconditional love. 1 John 4:18 reads, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.”
To love is divine. But to fear is human. And within us is the capacity for both.
Guillermo del Toro, a Mexican film maker, of all people, once said: “I think when we wake up in the morning, we can choose between fear and love. Every morning. And every morning, if you choose one, that doesn't define you until the end... It’s important that we choose love over fear, because love is the answer.”
Friends, it is human nature to feel afraid. But it is divine to choose love anyway.
Now, as God’s beloved children, when we choose love, we choose justice for our neighbors and peace for the world. After all, as Cornell West has said, “justice is what love looks like in public.”
Knowing we are secure in God’s love as God’s children, we should then be able to offer that kind of acceptance and belonging to others.
But we’re not always great at that, are we? We are human, after all. And fear, pride, the hunger for power often win over all that is divine.
Mary Ann Tolbert, in her commentary on Mark, cautions us in this section, noting that in verse 34, we are told to “take up the cross.”
She writes:
By taking this requirement of suffering for Jesus’ followers out of context of Mark’s gospel message as a whole, some Christians have supposed that it is God’s will for them to suffer and that, consequently, they should not work against oppression of that of others. This interpretation has been especially damaging to women and third world populations, colonized by Western Christians. … Read within its own understanding of the story of Jesus, Mark’s emphasis on suffering does not provide a basis for Christian masochism but instead a hope for future liberation.
The notion of a “suffering servant” is often romanticized, but Jesus was the suffering servant, so that we wouldn’t have to be! We bear the cross with Christ and with one another. We should not be burdening each other with crosses heavier than necessary. After all, even Jesus got help carrying his own cross.
So this passage is not a call to suffering or an excuse for allowing others to suffer. Rather, it is the reality we face when we are committed to live as the children of God, as we work together to help end suffering for all people, once and for all.
Because in this state of “already, not yet,” in this world that is already redeemed but still being made whole, all that is human and all that is divine mix together in a, well, let’s be honest, a holy mess that is our lives.
Nothing is perfect. But rest assured in knowing that love doesn’t require us to be perfect. Our broken, confused humanity is loved fully and wholly by the divine.
And perhaps it’s not so much true that what is human is the polar opposite of what is divine any way. Instead, even in our humanity, we all carry a spark of the divine.
Not like Jesus, in the fully human, fully divine kind of way. We are not Jesus.
But in that imago dei kind of way, where we recognize, understand, and accept that we are all created in the image of God.
So perhaps the story of transfiguration for us today, is about being able to see the divine and the holy that resides in us all, about recognizing that we are all created in the image of God, and if we are willing, then each and every one of us can shine light into the world that is holy and transformative, even dazzling and able to reveal the true nature of us all as God’s beloved.
We shine our light when we respond with kindness.
We shine our light when we show up for those who are grieving or in pain.
We shine our light when we bake or cook a meal for others.
We shine our light when we assure others that they are not alone in the darkness.
We shine our light when we speak out against war and occupying forces.
The Bay Area has seen its share of black outs this week. Any one lose power during the storms?
So perhaps we’ve learned anew how just a little bit of light can make a big difference, how that little glow of a cell phone can keep you from tripping over the toys in your living room. Just me?
The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. reminds us how powerful even just a little light can be, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
So shine your light, even if it doesn’t seem strong or powerful enough to drive out all that is hateful or harmful. A little bit of light goes a long way, and it is the only thing that can do it.
And recognize the light in others. Because together, our light is dazzling and transcendent.
Friends, may transfiguration be for us, not just one sacred day in the church, but a way of life, a way of seeing and knowing and uncovering God in all things as we let our lights shine.
Thanks be to God, Amen.
Art by Rachel Wolf
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