Transparent

Matthew 17: 1-9
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
February 26, 2017 – Transfiguration Sunday

            I have always been fascinated by how a human being can become someone else, whether by changing one’s appearance, acquiring knowledge, learning a skill, getting rid of a habit, or by acting either in a movie or on a stage. Just changing one’s posture can give the impression of someone much older (hunch shoulders forward) or younger (stand with squared shoulders). We can modulate our voice to be inviting or irritating or intimidating. We are complex beings with an uncanny ability to mimic and to tell a story through our bodies.

            We also enjoy a performance, to witness this transformation of one person into another.  Sometimes while watching a movie or a play, we become more than our everyday selves.  We get caught up in the drama or the comedy, and if it’s done well, we are drawn into the story to the point that we feel like we’re a part of it.

            But when actors break with their character and accidentally slip back into themselves, however briefly, we witness something most human.  While we would never want to reveal our flaws in front of an audience, it seems almost magical when it happens on live television or on the stage or in movie outtakes.  We see both the remnants of a character and the vulnerable human being who plays them. 

Back in 2011 I had the opportunity to play Florence Unger in the female version of The Odd Couple.  Before every performance I had to sit backstage for the first twenty minutes of the play in character, ready to go on:  my hair in a curly, poofy ‘80’s style, uptight posture, pitiful pouty face, and an emotional, hypochondriacal, neurotic attitude—I had to become an entirely different person.  During one of the last performances, Bettie, who played Olive Madison, and I lost our stuff for a few seconds after a funny line.  I thought it was one of the best moments in the whole play. 

It was as if a light came on, we pulled our masks off, and everyone got the real joke—two middle-aged women playing two middle-aged women.

Six days before Jesus climbed that mountain with Peter, James, and John, Jesus asked his disciples who did people think he was.  They hemmed and they hawed, dancing around the truth.  “Some say John the Baptist, others say Elijah, and still others say Jeremiah or one of the other prophets.” Jesus then got to the point and asked them who they thought he was.  Peter went for broke and said the whole truth: “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God.”  It was as if a light came on, the masks of pretension and denial and role-playing came off, and every one of the disciples got the real story.  Every promise God ever made to God’s people was standing right in front of them.

Transfiguration, Macha Chmakoff

Except Jesus said he would be telling a different story with his body than the one hoped for, and that any who would follow him would do the same.  With our bodies, with our lives we tell the story of the cross, the story of transformation:  how we become not another person, but who we really are, our divine humanity, our flaws and goodness, our pain and love in one glorious whole.  Jesus says that we will lose the life we know that we may find our real lives, our true selves, our wholeness.

And so six days later on that mountain Jesus makes it clear exactly who he is.  Why six days?  The sixth day of creation is when God created humankind in the image and likeness of God.  Six days after foretelling his death and resurrection, Jesus is transfigured into glory.  Where Jesus goes, we are also headed.  God is not done with us yet.  We, too, shall suffer.  We, too, shall be resurrected into life.  We, too, shall be transfigured into glory.  We, too, have been called to be what Jesus is:  a child of God, a human/divine presence of love.

We celebrate Jesus as the light of the world, and Jesus says that we too are the light of the world and to let our light shine.  Yet when God said let there be light, God said the light was good and separated the light from the dark.  When Jesus is transfigured his face shines like the sun and his clothes become a dazzling white.  Two weeks ago, in our discussion about white privilege, we talked about whiteness as norm, as something we who are white take for granted.  If we all are intended for transformation, the values we attach to light and darkness, black and white also need to be transformed.  Jesus took a few of his male disciples up the mountain, which was consistent with tradition then, yet a new narrative is needed to liberate all God’s people.  All the masks need to come off.

  

Transfiguration (1973) @ Jesus Mafa

What if Jesus’ face shone like moonlight, or like a raisin in the sun?  What if his clothes became dark like the night sky and a dark cloud overshadowed them and we still heard the word ‘beloved’?

What if his face shone because, along with prophets like Elijah and Moses, he was joined by his cousin Mohammed?

What if his face shone like undocumented immigrants harvesting strawberries or mowing lawns or lifting a hospital patient from their bed or graduating from college and we still heard the word ‘beloved’?

What if his face shone like a transgender woman or man or child who could use the bathroom they feel most comfortable using and we still heard the word ‘beloved’?

What if his face shone because he was holding hands with his beloved and kissed him in front of God and everyone, with nothing to fear?

What if his face shone because he knew he could afford his healthcare?

What if his face shone like a refugee family who sees nothing but green lights at customs and immigration and we still heard the word ‘beloved’?

What if his face shone like a reporter from CNN or Breitbart, from the Washington Times or Fox News, from BuzzFeed or the BBC, all on the same mountain, each freely telling what they see and hear, and we still heard the word ‘beloved’?

What if her face shone because she received equal pay for equal work, because she could move freely and fearlessly in the world, because her body is her own, and we still heard the word ‘beloved’?

What if the shining face was yours and mine and everyone’s, everywhere, because we no longer judged ourselves or anyone else as not enough or unworthy, as anything less than a child of God, because our divinity and our humanity had become transparent, obvious, and glorious and every moment we heard the word ‘beloved’?

            Amen.

Benediction ~ written by Roddy Hamilton

Not all is as it seems:
there is a glory hidden in everything
waiting to be revealed
to those who are willing to look
beyond what seems inevitable
who do not want to live in the status quo
but in the promises of God.

Hold onto the vision
as we turn towards Lent
and walk the more difficult path;
there is yet a greater glory
still to be revealed.

Go in peace,
Go in hope,
Go in love.