Sunday, 14 February: 2 Kings 2:1-12 and Mark 9:2-9
When day comes, we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this
never-ending shade?
It was a little over a month ago that the poet Amanda Gorman spoke at the inauguration of the 46th President of the United States.
Her poem was entitled “The Hill We Climb”.
Her words embraced themes which resonate beyond the steps of the Capital. She allowed space for grief and growth, hurt and hope; purpose and promise; truth and trust. She picture of what stands before us rather than between us; acknowledged that norms and notions of what is ‘just’ isn’t always justice.
Her words were infused with passion and joy; woven together with the vision of our Scriptures - that everyone shall sit under their own vine - their own fig tree - and be unafraid.
Armando Alemdar Ara - The Transfiguration of Jesus
The hill we are invited to climb today is one of transfiguration; of transformation; of unsettling, overwhelming and dazzling radiance.
A hill where perhaps we can say with Gorman:
For there is always light,
If only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.
We come to this light: sharing with the disciples in this private moment.
A moment of bewilderment and glory.
A moment Peter at least wants to hold on to.
Yet as they rise up from their fear, perhaps they ask what kind of love is this?
What kind of love?
Charles Pabst - the luminous mysteries
This is love incarnate - God’s beloved Son.
This love is the fountain of mercy and justice.
This radiant moment connects us to promises and renews our purpose.
Here we too are refashioned.
At the feet of Moses who led a people to freedom, alerting them to the presence of God in cloud and fire; who called out the dangers of false idols and golden calfs; whose face glowed with God’s glory; who brought the commandments down from mountain top to the valley.
At the feet of Elijah who defended the worship of the Lord God; who called out the evil deeds of rulers and brought hope to the fearful; whose words of prophecy called people back to mercy and justice; who departed in glory, leaving Elisha a double portion of his spirit.
At the feet of Jesus we see the fulfilment of the law and the prophets; who came from glory as love incarnate; who stood alongside fragile and fractured humanity on muddy river banks; whose presence brought God’s Kingdom near in words, whispers, sighs and signs of compassion, welcome, healing, challenge and hope.
Now he sets his face towards Jerusalem: walking a path of suffering, rejection and death.
No wonder Peter wants to hold on to this sacred and wondrous moment; to hold onto this vision of glory.
A cloud overshadows them.
A voice speaks.
This is my Son, the beloved.
Listen to him.
Found of mercy and justice.
And now, only Jesus.
What kind of love.
A love that raises the disciples up from a place of fear.
A love that takes them back to the valley.
A love that gives them a glimpse of glory; a glimpse of risen life.
A light in shade: if we’re brave enough to see; brave enough to be.
Transfiguration - James B. Janknegt, USA
To rest in the Lord is to commit our way to him, and to trust him.
To abide in radiance calls forth a response.
And in commitment and trust, Jesus points the disciples - and each of us - back to this messy world.
A world where the fault lines of social and economic circumstances collide with the stories we tell of past and present and future; where structures and legacies can be deployed to bind or to set free.
A world where there are tensions, inequalities and injustices; where polarisation and privilege threaten to disfigure or diminish the dignity we have as human beings.
Jesus takes us from radiance and reality.
He brings us back to those who need us: the sick and sorrowful, the restless and vulnerable.
This is the kind of love we see incarnate with us and acting for us.
Love that liberates and brings life.
Dare we pray for a portion of God’s Spirit?
Truth to guide us and love to free us.
Dare we become the light we seek?
With compassion, courage and resolve to see dignity restored.
When it comes to racial justice, this is not a zero sum game - where someone else’s gain is our loss. We are invited out of apathy into equality. We are invited to a kind of love that reflects God’s glory as we honour one another.
In the words of my dear friend Anderson Jeremiah - a member of the Archbishop’s Antiracism Taskforce: the ‘way of the cross cannot be privatised as an individual spiritual journey. The cross becomes a dynamic public pursuit of fraternity, liberty and justice rooted in love. The cross and subsequent resurrection has overcome the world’s power game of domination, exploitation, greed and deception.’
Will we rise from fear - being the light we see and the love we receive?
Today we are gifted a glorious vision - in a world such as this.
Love incarnate: fount of mercy and justice
In a world of inequity and pain, may our actions be our prayer.
May we seek to honour one another and rise from fear.
May we labour unto to the the glory of this kind of love.
© Julie Gittoes 2021
