“And he was transfigured
before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became
dazzling white.” (Matthew 17:2)
Melanie was a stunning bride. Her gown
was dazzling white and so very elegant. But it was the radiance of
her face that struck me. Filled with anticipation and love and
joy—and not a small amount of wedding-day jitters—she came down
the aisle to Sean, her groom. I couldn't help but smile in the light
of these two young people whose lives I was about to join together by
performing the marriage ceremony.
Of course, part of my joy in
celebrating with Sean and Melanie was the fact that the two of them
had done me a pretty solid favor earlier in the week. The unusually
high amount of snowfall we've had this winter here in the Great
Northeast caused ice and snow to build up on the roof of the church
fellowship hall. A sudden thaw brought gallons of runoff water
through the cracked seams of our dilapidated structure, making the
hall and my office look like the Brazilian Rain Forrest. While my
secretary and I were running around with buckets and pans, trying to
catch the drips, Melanie called to ask if her pre-marital counseling
session was still on the schedule. “Oh yes, “ I told her, “but
I don't know where I'll put you. My office ceiling is leaking like
the Titanic.”
“That's okay,” she said. “My
fiancee is a roofer. I'll send him right over.” Within an hour the
leaks had been contained and the situation temporarily rectified. All
that remained was for my church council to come up with a way to pay
for the utterly ungodly expense of a new roof—which is actually a
pretty depressing prospect.
But I wasn't thinking about any of that
in the glow of the wedding ceremony. I know there are all kinds of
creams and skin-care products which promise to give people “that
radiant glow.” For my money, however, nothing makes a face shine
like inner light—the light which comes from joy, peace, love, and
contentment. And whether that light comes from the face of a bride, a
happy child, a new parent, or a wise and serene elder, it is still
the light of God. It is the glimpse of the Feast to Come which
reminds us that all of our worries—even leaky fellowship hall
roofs—are ephemeral.
In the gospel lesson which ends the
post-Epiphany season, Jesus takes his close friends up the mountain
on a little retreat. While they're there, they get a glimpse of God's
glory shining out of their teacher's face and person. The vision is
completely overwhelming. Not only do they see Jesus shine in God's
radiance, but they see him with the pivotal figures of Israel's past,
Moses and Elijah, the icons of the Law and the Prophets. If this
weren't enough, the dazzling bright cloud of God's light totally
covers them, and they hear the voice of God proclaim Jesus as Beloved
Son. It's too much for these guys. They fall down in terrified
exhaustion by the majesty of this experience.
When I think of this story, I always
feel that the Transfiguration was not something which happened to
Jesus. Rather, it was something which happened to Peter, James, and
John. In the glow of God's love and goodness, manifested in the
person of Jesus, they temporarily caught fire themselves. They were
given a little taste, an exquisite moment of passion, a graceful gift
to comfort and sustain them as they made the harrowing journey down
the mountain to the valley of persecution, betrayal, and crucifixion.
In a world of violence, as I hear the
news reports from Syria, Ukraine, and South Sudan, or even as I deal
with the mundane irritants of leaky roofs and overburdened church
budgets, I keep looking for those fleeting flashes of God's goodness.
I don't want to shine so much as I need to be “shined” upon.
The light of a bride's smile, the glow
of a happy Sunday School student, the warm shine of a face looking up
at me from the Communion rail, all of these are mini
Transfigurations. All of these are bits of the light of Christ which
promised Resurrection even while the cross cast its ominous shadow
nearby. All of these are promises of the light which scattered the
darkness and spoke the cosmos into existence—the light meant for
all of us.
And the light continues to shine from
Jesus. So listen to him and be transfigured yourself.
Let your light shine a little, too.
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