Friday, February 12, 2010

How Do I Get There?

What to do, what to do. . .

I’ve been ruminating on this Transfiguration thing. . .

One of the problems I have, is you have to get to the mountaintop to come down from the mountain, don’t you?

And so, what of this non-mountaintop existence I seem to have.

Have I somehow sought to tame God, so that I do not have to experience the terror of the encounter?

The question begs the answer, does it not?

I liked one sermon I read, (Altitude Adjustment by Heidi Neumark pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church of Manhattan) where she suggested that although she usually hasn’t been all that interested in staying on the mountaintop - that she has pretty much been fine with the call to get back down off the mountain - that maybe this time she’d like to hang out on the mountaintop for a bit and listen to Jesus. . . . She has a number of good lines - one about how the link between the Transfiguration and Gethsemane (I'd add - the cross which I suspect is referenced in Moses and Elijah and Jesus speaking of his "exodus") are

“. . . unlikely twin sites of glory's face and backside.”


Glory's face and backside.

Nice.

I think about a comment I heard at Luther Lectures this year - alas - not by the lecturer who had too little to offer. But by Pay No Toll, who said something to the effect of "what is hidden in the deus absconditus is the glory of God." What then, when the glory shines forth? Oddly, it seems still hidden in suffering and the cross. . .

Finally, more from Neumark

“Unlike Peter, I have found the mountaintop of this text an uncomfortable place, perhaps because, unlike Peter, I have not been there. Each year when this story comes up, I am eager to move off the mountaintop and down to more familiar terrain. I feel more at home when they're back down with the needy crowd.

. . . This year, I'm less eager to rush down to the bottom of the hill. I'd like to linger on the mountain. I'd like to listen to the voice that interrupts Peter and brings balm: "Listen to him," we are told. Listen for dear life. Listen to words of forgiveness and mercy, promises of paradise, words from the cross. Listen without ceasing, on the edge of glory and on the brink of death.”


Well - what to do, what to do...

I may have an idea. . .


here’s a nice piece by William Loader


A Prayer for Transfiguration Sunday

Call to Prayer

Let’s go up the mountain.

Let’s go up to the place where the land meets the sky

where the earth touches the heavens,

to the place of meeting,

to the place of mists,

to the place of voices and conversations,

to the place of listening.

Prayer

O God,

We open our eyes and we see Jesus,

the months of ministry transfigured to a beam of light,

the light of the world,

your light.

May your light shine upon us.

We open our eyes and we see Moses and Elijah,

your word restoring us, showing us the way,

telling a story,

your story, his story, our story.

May your word speak to us.

We open our eyes and we see mist,

the cloud of your presence

which assures us of all we do not know

and that we do not need to fear that.

Teach us to trust.

We open our eyes and we see Peter’s constructions,

his best plans, our best plans,

our missing the point,

our missing the way.

Forgive our foolishness and sin

We open our eyes and we see Jesus,

not casting us off,

but leading us down, leading us out -

to ministry, to people.

Your love endures forever.

We open our ears and we hear your voice,

‘This is my beloved Son, listen to him!’

And we give you thanks.

Amen

prepared by William Loader 2/2001

http://wwwstaff.murdoch.edu.au/~loader/TransfigurationPrayer.htm


1 comment:

The Underminer said...

Re: the "I don't often get to the mountaintop" kinda quote. This from Sophie Scholl, who, if I'm not mistaken, was killed by the Nazis at age 21 for working with the resistance

"I'm still so remote from God that I don't even sense his presence when I pray. Sometimes when I utter God's name, in fact, I feel like sinking into a void. It isn't a frightening or dizzying sensation, it's nothing at all - and that's far more terrible. But prayer is the only remedy for it, and however many devils scurry around inside me, I shall cling to the rope God has thrown me, even if my numb hands can no longer feel it." - Sophie Scholl