I am at a
loss to understand what motivates mountain climbers. Why in the world would
anyone clamber over loose rocks, wade through deep snow, and inch up sheer
cliff walls like a human fly? When asked why he risked his life climbing Mt.
Everest, Sir Edmund Hillary famously replied, “Because it is there.” That’s a
great quote, but it’s not much of an answer. Many people point to the thrill of
the climb, and the courage necessary to face the dangers that threaten every
climber from the moment that he or she sets out. Others, though, answer that question
by recalling the grandeur of the vistas that can only be viewed from the summit
of a mountain – vistas that offer a view of our earth as very few people will ever
see it.
Today’s
gospel reading (Matthew 17:1-9) offers us a story of Jesus and three of his
disciples climbing a mountain; and Matthew is careful to tell us that it was
a very high mountain. But Jesus didn’t
take them there to get a good view of the surrounding countryside. No, Jesus
wanted his disciples to experience a different kind of view, one that would strike
them with awe and forever change their understanding of their teacher. Jesus
took them up the mountain so that they could experience his glory that had so
far been hidden from the eyes of his disciples. Matthew struggles to express
that glory. “His face shone like the sun,” Matthew tells us, “and his clothes
became white as the light.” Jesus is even joined by Moses and Elijah, the
representing the law and the prophets; and the disciples witness all of it. No
wonder that they wanted to stay there! Jesus’ glory surrounds the disciples as Peter
offers to build three shelters – one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for
Elijah – so that they would never have to leave. After all, what activity in
their daily lives could possibly compare with the spiritual high they are
experiencing? Why not just stay there forever?
I’ll bet
that some of you have felt that way at one time. We may not have seen Jesus
glowing with heavenly fire on top of a mountain, but we have had religious
experiences that changed us forever. Those experiences reached into our souls
and moved us so much that the very foundations of our lives were shaken. That’s
the reason that we call them “mountaintop” experiences. They are as brief as
the time that Jesus’ disciples spent on the mountaintop with him; and just like
Peter, we don’t want them to end. Maybe you felt that way at church camp one
summer. You and the friends that you made there became as tightly-knit as your
own family (and maybe even tighter). You felt the presence of Jesus as you had
never felt him before; and at the end of the week, you wept because you didn’t
want to leave. Or maybe it was music at a concert that moved you so deeply that
you felt heaven all the way down to your tiptoes; and when the music ended, you
sat with your eyes closed wishing that it could continue forever. Of course we
don’t want to leave those mountaintops! They are rare moments in our lives; and
when we experience them, we cherish them!
But the
disciples couldn’t stay on that mountaintop; and we can’t, either. No sooner
had Peter made his suggestion than God’s glory overshadowed all of them, and
they heard God’s voice saying, “This is my beloved Son, and I am very pleased
with him. Listen to him!” Listen to him? What is Jesus going to say? The
disciples don’t know, but we do. They will soon learn to their shock and horror
that Jesus is anticipating his own death at the hands of the Romans. Not only
must they all leave the mountaintop and walk into the valley; that valley will
be very long and deep indeed. And it’s a valley that every Christian must
experience. “Whoever wants to follow me must take up his own cross,” Jesus says
(Matthew 16:24). In the words of the old spiritual, “We must walk that lonesome
valley. We have to walk it by ourselves. Oh, nobody else can walk it for us.” Despite
our desire to escape it, that valley awaits every single one of us.
The season
of Lent is one of those valleys. It’s not my favorite season of the year; and I
imagine that it’s not yours, either. It’s a somber time here at church. We will
put the alleluias away until Easter; and the hymns will be subdued. A wooden
cross draped in purple will hang in the front of the sanctuary; and a wreath of
purple candles will join the Bible and the candles on the altar. Each week, one
of those candles will be extinguished as we recognize our sin. For six long
weeks, we will own up to what we do – and to what we don’t do. Oh, yes, Lent
is a valley, to be sure! And that’s why we celebrate Jesus’ transfiguration on
the Sunday before Lent begins. It’s one brief, shining moment that lifts all of
us up to the mountaintop and offers us a good look at Jesus in all his glory. It
unmasks the glory that Jesus has possessed since the beginning of time, but
that we seldom see on our day-to-day walk with him. The short essay on the back
of today’s worship bulletin says it beautifully! “The Transfiguration is a
spoiler! The Son of Man may lose his life on the cross, but in the end he will
return and shine as the sun. It lets the disciples know that even as Jesus has
just predicted his death on a cross, they needn’t fear, they needn’t worry,
because he is unstoppable. He is the beloved Son of God. They can hold on to
that dazzling vision, and it will give them hope in the frightening days
ahead.”
That’s what
our own mountaintop experiences can do for us, too. When we are in the middle
of a dark valley – and we all will be there, sooner or later – we can hold on
to the visions that we ourselves have had of Jesus in his glory. We can hold on
to the certainty that he is right beside us; because once, we felt him there. We
can hold on to the certainty that he is the essence of love and beauty and
majesty and wisdom; because once, we saw all those things as clearly as we see
the person sitting next to us right now. We can hold on to the certainty that
the valleys of our lives will be temporary, while Jesus’ glory is eternal. Before
we walk through the valley of Lent – before we walk through all the valleys
that we will surely face in our lives – let’s go up to the mountaintop one more
time. Let’s gaze at Jesus in all his glory. Let’s listen to God’s voice
proclaim, “This is my beloved son!” And let’s celebrate the mountaintop that we
experience now and then, and the one that awaits us at the end.
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