March 2, 2025

Transfiguration, Year C

Luke 9:28-36

Epiphany, Winnipeg

1. We know the story well, and we know what happens from here. After this mountain scene Jesus will just keep on moving across the country and across the days to Jerusalem. There will be miracles and healing and conversations and crowds fed and forgiveness given. There will be tragedy, and soon we’ll hear about Jesus’ last days and his arrest and trial and crucifixion – we know it’s coming. A few days after that, seven weeks from today, there will be triumph as the tomb is be opened and the risen Jesus steps out and we say what some of us have said a thousand times: “Christ is risen!” “Christ is risen indeed!” Hallelujah! We’ve heard it so many times we might not even notice. And we might even think we know what’s going on.

But those poor disciples. They have no idea what’s on the way. They’ll see all those great things happen; they’ll get their hopes up. But hey will also see things they never imagined as the powers that be turn against Jesus. And when everything falls apart and they lose their teacher and they taste such grief or shame, they’ll have that little simple word that still whispers in their memory – “This is my son, my beloved, listen to him.”

Just a few little words.

We know where this story is going, right? Because we’ve heard it so many times. But we don’t know where our own story is going, do we? The next seven weeks, the next seven minutes, while Jesus’ story unfolds? We don’t know what’s coming; what fears, what sadness, what joys, what good good news (that’s out there too)? Even when we don’t know, there’s that little simple word that still whispers in our memory – “This is my son, my beloved, listen to him.”

We’re sort of like those three with Jesus on the mountaintop. Peter and James and John see Jesus with Moses and Elijah and they just don’t know what to make of it. So Peter just says “Let’s build some tents!”, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying. He just sees things he can’t understand but just feels like he has to say something, so he does…

Have you ever done that?

I’ve never done that (eye roll).

We don’t always know what we’re seeing, do we? Or we see it and can’t quite get that it’s really happening. Sometimes we don’t even know what to say, even if we’re saying something. It’s like a cloud settles in overtop, and what made sense once suddenly doesn’t anymore, and what seemed clear a minute ago isn’t so clear any more. Then a voice speaks in the cloud and says: “This is my son, my chosen, listen to him.”

Maybe it still doesn’t feel like the cloud is clearing. But when we’re in a cloud and we don’t know what’s coming next, there is still that voice that speaks. “This is my son, my chosen, listen to him.”

If the clouds lift, and we can see what’s coming next – and that may be great or it might be scarier than not knowing - the voice still rings in our ears. “This is my son, my chosen, listen to him.”

That’s all the voice from the cloud says. No more explanation is given.

And then what? We heard how it ends. “They kept silent, and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

Maybe there’s a time just to be quiet. Don’t say anything.

We don’t need to convince ourselves or anyone else not to be afraid, because sometimes it’s scary; it just is.

We don’t need to convince anyone that we saw this vision and everything suddenly made sense with our faith and our life. Because maybe it’s still not all clear.

The disciples keep silent, and maybe it’s for the simple reason that they don’t know what to say, and they don’t have to pretend that they do.

How about that? Sometimes we just don’t know what to say. So we don’t have to say anything.

Knowing what to say won’t save us. Understanding what we see, even if it’s Jesus shining on a mountain, won’t save us. Knowing where we’re going won’t either. Knowing that it’s all going to be OK or knowing that we’re doomed. These things won’t save us. So we don’t need to pretend. There’s just this news again that we’re not alone in the cloud or on the clearest of days: “This is my son, my chosen one. Listen to him.”

Jesus says so many things: “Peace, be still.” “Don’t be afraid; sell your possessions. Follow me.” “You’re worried and distracted by so many things.” “The angels rejoice when one sinner repents.” “You can’t serve God and wealth.” “This is my body, given for you.” “God, forgive them, they don’t know what they’re doing.” And some of is last words in Luke: “Do you have anything to eat?”

So many things Jesus will say. Some will be clear, some will be cloudy. Some will make us twitchy and uncomfortable. Some will make us feel like we’re finally free and loved and so so at home.

And sometimes, even Jesus will not say anything. He stands silent when Herod demands an answer. He commends his spirit to God, and then goes silent.

And even then there’s still that voice in the cloud: “This is my son, my chosen. Listen to him.”

And sometimes that’s all there is to do. And It’s OK when we don’t know what to say.

Just listen.