Metairie, Louisiana
February 22, 2009
Guiding Images of Christ
2 Corinthians 4:3-12
Mark 9:2-9
Suddenly they saw him the way he was, the way he really was all the time although they had never seen it before the glory which blinds the everyday eye and so becomes invisible.
This is how he was, radiant, brilliant carrying joy like a flaming sun in his hands.
This is the way he was – is – from the beginning and we cannot bear it, so he manned himself, came manifest to us; and there on the mountain they saw him, really saw him, saw his light.
We all know that if we really see him we die.
But isn’t that what is required of us?
Then perhaps, we will see each other, too.
(Madeleine L’Engle)
The disciples behold a glimpse of the Glory of God reflected in the face of Jesus and when this occurs it tenders them stupid. Literally stupid. Peter and the disciples had known Jesus all these days as they tramped around Gahlee. They knew him as teacher, as healer, as one who disturbed demons. Mostly they knew him as friend and fellow traveler.
They had shared the miseries and pleasantries of life on the road – sore feet, itchy bedrolls, occasional empty bellies. But also the joy of companionship – camping under the stars, sharing stories, hearty meals with strangers. They’d shared simple intimacies – bathing in the river, sharing a blanket. By now they were faithful companions.
And yet the disciples were shocked silly at the sight of the Glory of God shimmering in the figure of Jesus on the mountaintop. The disciples reacted like a comedy team, keystone cops or Carol Burnett and her looney pals. The disciples rushed about uselessly, bumping into one another in comedic confusion. The disciples did not get it – did not get Jesus.
And Paul has had his own encounter with the Glory of God shining thru the person of Jesus. Paul was literally blinded by the light, knocked off his horse, was rendered blind and speechless for more than a week by the vision and voice of Jesus. And that encounter, doctors today might call it a grand seizure, that encounter transforms Paul from persecutor to proselytizer of Christianity – the Jesus way. Paul died to his old life, rose to a resurrected life.
Disciples cannot seem to get their minds wrapped around this vision of the divine shimmering thru the body of their rabbi, their friend.
I, for one, can understand their confusion – it is a brain twister, that doctrine of Jesus Christ, fully human/fully divine. Certainly the early Christian theologians struggled and argued about this doctrine, this concept that the holiness of God is expressed in the person of a man.
Indeed this concept – which we repeat in the creeds – caused the early Jesus movement to be ejected from their Jewish community.
It is an idea that cannot be tamed, cannot be managed, cannot be manipulated. For disciples it rocked their world – this unimaginable, inexplicable vision that they witnessed.
Have we in our hum-drum recitation of creed, our mainstream rational version of Christianity lost our capacity for the extraordinary encounter? The glimpse of glory that changes everything? Are we so complacent and comfortable with our friend, Jesus that he has become a Jesus-on-a-lease? No longer a messenger that shocks your mind, shakes your world?
The more you encounter the Jesus of scriptures, the testimonies of his presence, the more astounding the images. The more hymns you sing, you will increase your acquaintance with the man – the man of sorrows and the man of resurrection glory. The one who heals, the one who confronts demons. The one who weeps over Lazarus, the one who celebrates at a wedding. And if you are a student of Christian art you will be challenged to encounter Jesus in multiple portraits, some familiar and some very strange indeed.
Some images will knock you off your horse, or render you temporarily stupid or blind . . . and you will never be the same. You will die to your old life and be born again. You will climb mountains, get lost in the wilderness by the seeking for the vision.
These mountain top experiences do not last long – we are not capable of enduring the brilliance and we so often misunderstand the vision, which is too rich for our mortal minds. But these high points serve as reference while the journey on the plains continues. But that vision of the glory of God changes us, turns us around.
We carry the event within us – Paul describes it like this:
“We have earthenware jars to hold our treasures” – that is, God has selected us everyday people as containers of glory. That glory is God’s alone, so we do not need be overly concerned about our personal inadequacies. We, you and me, members of our Church and all members of the Body of Christ – we might get befuddled or anxious, occasionally even feel overwhelmed by the things we face . . . but we are not cornered, not at our wits end, never abandoned, not at our ropes’ end because we have the promise that God’s Glory is contained in the commonplace.
I have an image of Jesus which reminds me there is no reason to lose heart. This icon is a picture of the transfiguration – or maybe resurrection or maybe even the second coming. I really don’t know . . . strange image for a protestant minister because the depiction is very Greek Orthodox, like the icons that hang in a museum or a R. Catholic church.
It’s always felt to me that this icon chose me, I did not choose it. I was introduced to icons by another UCC minister who teaches classes in prayer and spirituality at a Methodist Seminary in Denver. I did not expect Jane to have us work with icons, not a very protestant minister sort of thing to teach.
But I went along, out of curiosity and a sense of adventure. Though I never really understand why, and remain just slightly off-kelter about this practice of praying with an icon, this prayer routine has stayed with me.
I bring the icon of Jesus with me when I move to a new ministry, always a journey to an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, new customs, new locations. And I do get lost, confused and not infrequently make blunders . . . forgivable blunders, I pray.
My icon reminds me that God does work with us when we find life confusing, baffling. I set my icon, surrounded with soft candlelight, on a trunk adjacent to my reading chair. The icon is about the Glory of God shining thru Jesus. It’s about God’s glory being carried in an earthenware jar, like you and me.
Jesus’ face, hands and feet are revealed – those tender places where the crown of thorns and wounds of crucifixion appeared. His diaphanous billowy white robes suggest that he is rising, or being lifted. His palms beckon, his stance welcomes.
The icon challenges and comforts both. Jesus is multidimensional, Lord and servant, both.
As I said when I started, we disciples do get confused, but there is no shame in that. We may be befuddled but so long as we remain the companions of Jesus on the journey, whether on mountaintop, or by the sea of Gahlee, or at the manger . . . so long as we remain the disciples of Jesus, we stay in the company of the Glory of God. And the Glory of God, my friends, is sufficient for now and evermore.
Let the people say Amen.
