John 3:14-17

[Jesus said to Nicodemus,] “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

I saw a dead rat earlier this week … on a walk in the desert. I was in Phoenix, some of you know, and went for a morning stroll with my brother, his wife, my son Max, and two dogs. And there was a rat – dead and dried up, lying in the dirt and dust of the desert. Luckily, the dogs didn’t seem to notice it. Neither did Max, at first, who came this close to stepping on the poor thing.

I would just as soon NOT have seen the dead rat, in the first place – or kept imagining what would have happened had Max actually stepped on it. We took a different path home to keep the dogs from finding it on a second-pass. I didn’t want to keep imagining that, either. But I did. And I have. And now I am again.

And since I had to see the dead rat and be grossed out by it – and imagine all sorts of things about it – and Max’s shoe… and the dogs… I wanted to share that with you. So – fair warning – hide your eyes if you like – here’s a picture.

I’d bet a lot of dollars that’s the only dead rat shown as part of Good Friday worship out there in the world tonight. And I’m kind of sorry about that. But not really. There’s nothing more “LENT” or “GOOD FRIDAY” than a desert, dust, and death, if you ask me.

Because, you know what we’re here for tonight, right? It’s uglier and more unsettling and upsetting than any dead rat. It is dirty and dusty and ugly, for sure. And it’s meant to get our attention and to unsettle us, more than just a little bit – more, surely, than just a dead little rat.

And that’s why I thought about this bit from John’s Gospel – the bit before and after the popular stuff of bumper stickers I mean. “For God so love the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” That’s great and all, but I want to talk about that bit where Jesus compares what’s coming for him on the Cross, to what Moses did – way back in the day – when he “lifted up a serpent in the wilderness.” Moses put a snake on a pole – he might as well have shown them a rat on Good Friday – and invited them to look at it as a reminder of what was killing them. And the people were healed by what they saw – healed from the very real snakes that had been killing them.

So that rat and those snakes made me think again about what we’re here for tonight, which is to be reminded about where our sinfulness leads – to death and dust, remember – kind of right back where we started this Lenten journey on Ash Wednesday.

And, throughout the season of Lent this time around, we’ve been hearing stories from the perspectives of people in Scripture who had a hand in this – who had a hand in getting Jesus to the cross, I mean. “By My Hand, For My Sake” was the name of the series we shared. And the point of it all was to remind us that what got God to the cross, in Jesus, were the sins – done and left undone – by the people who surrounded him: people like Peter, Pontius Pilate, Nicodemus, and more. And the point was to remind us, too, that we’re part of that mix, still.

See, the cross of Christ is a nasty, shameful picture of what it looks like when God’s people lose their way and when our sins – the things we do and the things we neglect to do – cause harm to God’s people, to each other, and to the world around us. The cross of Christ is meant to be hard to look at, and impossible to un-see once we really take it in.

The God who hangs there, in Jesus, died – not just as some kind of tit-for-tat trade-off for our personal salvation. Jesus didn’t die as a substitute for our own suffering and death – we’re all still headed for the grave, one way or another, people.

No, the God who hangs on the cross, in Jesus Christ, died there, in that horrible way, so that we could see what comes from our sins on this side of heaven – and so that we might be saved and save some others from the suffering of it all, right where we live.

So I decided to let the image of that dead little rat represent, tonight, all the ugliness that got Jesus crucified, nailed to a tree, and killed for our sake.

And, what got Jesus nailed to that cross is our greed and selfishness.

What got Jesus nailed to that cross is our pride and self-interest.

What got Jesus nailed to that cross is our rigid religious certainty and self-righteousness – like when we pretend this is all or only about our own salvation.

What got Jesus nailed to that cross is racism – 400 years or more, and 9 minutes and 29 seconds, too, of our systemic, institutional, and individual racism.

What got Jesus nailed to that cross is our unwillingness to beat our swords into plowshares, our spears into pruning hooks, and our guns into gardening tools.

What got Jesus nailed to that cross is our homophobia and our sexism.

What got Jesus nailed to that cross is our partisan politics that only pretend – or neglect altogether – to be informed by the principles and practice of our faith.

What got Jesus nailed to that cross is our denial and our blind eyes, our unwillingness to see, acknowledge, or admit any of this to such a degree that it ever seems to change.

Yes, what got Jesus nailed to that cross has to do with God’s willingness and ability to save and redeem and raise us to new life on the other side the grave, but it’s about so much more than that, too.

So let’s let it all be as ugly as it is. Let’s let it all be as scary as we can stand for it to be. Let’s let it be as shocking and shameful as possible … just for tonight.

And let’s leave it for dead. On the cross. Let’s leave it in the dust. Like so many rats… and snakes… and Sin. Let’s leave it all for dead.

And please … in the name of Jesus … let’s pray and hope and trust and see what God will do – with us… and through us… in spite of us… for the sake of us – and for the sake of the world – come Sunday.

Amen

Mark 9:2-9

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

Someone once told me they hated the Lord of the Rings movies. That was a hard thing for me to hear. As a die-hard Tolkien fan who has spent countless hours immersed in the mythology and adventures of middle-earth through the novels and films, it’s hard for me to comprehend how someone could say they hated the original trilogy of films; as imperfect as they were.

This person elaborated, saying he stumbled upon the movie on TV and gave up after about a half-hour because he couldn’t understand what was going on. In the course of the conversation it became clear that he had seen just one of the movies in the original trilogy – the last one, The Return of the King.

It’s no wonder he didn’t understand what was going on; there are six hours of film material that sets up The Return of the King. If he didn’t understand what the ring is, why a tiny hobbit and allies had set off to destroy it, or the dynamics of the forces and obstacles in their way, then there was no way he could be invested in the outcome of the story.

In a way, jumping into the story of the Transfiguration of Christ in Mark’s gospel account is like skipping the first two Lord of the Rings movies and only watching a ten minute scene from the third movie. You might appreciate the special effects or a particular line delivered by an actor, but you’re left with no clear understanding of how the scene fits into the larger story, much less what implications the story has for you.

So, briefly, here are the stories you need to know in order to appreciate the story of the Transfiguration.

Episode 1: Moses and Mt. Sinai.

The Lord summons Moses up the mountain where, over the course of 40 days and nights, Moses encounters God through wind, earthquake, and fire. Moses receives a lengthy list of commandments, starting with what we know as the ten commandments, but also including laws about the altar, slaves, violence, property, restitution, festivals, etc. The last thing Moses does before leaving the mountaintop is he requests that the Lord’s favor would be with him and his people. The Lord agrees.

Moses returned to camp with the commandments and finds the people had made a golden calf idol to worship, effectively rejecting the Lord who brought them out of slavery. Moses is furious and smashes the stone tablets engraved with the commandments. The Lord is furious and threatens to destroy the people. Moses intervenes, however, and the Lord’s mind is changed…although the Lord still sends a plague upon the people. One could make the case that the people got sick less due to divine wrath and more likely because Moses had ground up the golden idol and made the people drink it.

We’ll fast-forward decades after Moses’s mountaintop experience to Episode 2: Elijah and the SIlence.

Elijah was a prophet to the Northern Kingdom of Israel. Elijah led a military victory over followers of Baal, which outraged Jezebel, the Queen of the Northern Kingdom. Fearing for his life, Elijah fled from the promised land and went into the wilderness, eventually coming to Mt. Sinai.

Elijah hopes for a Moses-like moment. He wants The Lord to appear in the fire, wind, and earthquake. He wants the Lord to bestow to him the new rules so that he could return to the promised land and usher in a new age of fidelity. He wants to be the new Moses.

But this time on Mt. Sinai, Lord was not in the wind, earthquake, or fire; rather, God was in the sheer silence. Not a "still, small voice" (as has been erroneously translated), but it is in the silence that God speaks. In the silence, Elijah understands what he must do; he must return to the same people who had threatened to kill him and continue to proclaim the prophetic word of justice and truth.

Jesus’s disciples and the first Christians were very familiar with these stories. They understood mountains had played a significant role as important places of divine revelation. They also understood that things go awry once you head down from the mountain and try to communicate your divine experience back in the “real world.”

Fast-forward once more to Episode 3: Daniel and the Mysterious Figure.

Daniel was a noble and faithful Hebrew man whom the Lord rescued from the den of lions. The final part of Daniel’s story involves an encounter with “a man clothed in linen….His face was like a flash of lightning, and his eyes were like burning torches” (Daniel 10:5-6). This luminous figure foretells of a great military victory for the Hebrew kingdom, ushering in a time of prosperity and peace; and concludes with a mysterious statement about the resurrection of the dead. This figure was often understood as a symbol of the Christ or Messiah.

Here we have two stories of dine revelation happening on a mountain; and one story of a figure clothed in blinding white promising the Lord would lead the Hebrew people to victory on the earth.

With these stories in our rearview, we can now turn our attention to today’s story of the Transfiguration.

The writer of the Gospel of Mark likely thought this was an important story to include in his collection of Jesus-stories because it is so obviously in continuity with well-known Hebrew stories, as we’ve just explored. However, as with all the great gospel stories, it’s power is precisely where the story puts a radical spin on previously-held truths.

Jesus has been very active teaching, healing, and providing for the people suffering great need. At this point Peter has proclaimed Jesus as the Messiah. Only a couple verses later Peter rebukes Jesus for claiming that he would be killed by the religious and political forces. After all, Peter knew of the promise of victory given to Daniel by the mysterious figure. By talking about being killed, Jesus was getting the story wrong.

Jesus, Peter, James and John head up a high mountain and there Jesus is transfigured. His clothes become dazzling white and Elijah and Moses show up and start talking to Jesus.

Peter’s mind in blown. He knows something incredible is happening. Some new divine revelation is about to be revealed. And then it hits him. “Uh-oh, he thinks; I know what happens when people go back down the mountain…and it’s never good.” Peter’s excitement turns to terror.

Once more Peter rebukes Jesus, this time it’s proactive and subtle; but it is a rebuke nonetheless. Peter refers to Jesus as “Rabbi.” In Mark’s gospel, the disciples only ever call Jesus “Rabbi” when they’re about to challenge or confront him. It’s a power move, designed to pin Jesus within the confines of the established Hebrew religion – the one that promised great blessings for the people so long as they remained faithful.

So Peter calls out to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here." But what he's really saying is something like this...

“Hey Rabbi, don’t forget your obligation is to our religion, so whatever it is you’re talking about with those two, be careful. You know what, let’s just hang out up here. We got Moses and Elijah here, which is great. Plus, as long as we’re up here, we’re safe. Whatever you three are talking about is probably bad news for everyone else, and I don’t like giving people bad news. So, what d’ya say. Wanna pitch a tent and never go back down?”

And then comes a loud voice, saying, “This is my son, the beloved; listen to him.”

And there’s the twist of the story. On the top of this new mountain, there is no new divine revelation. No new commandments. No wind, fire, earthquake, or even silence. There is only the acknowledgment that everything Peter needs to know has already been said by Jesus before they summited the mountain.

And what has Jesus been saying recently? He has been talking about how he is going to die and be raised back to life.

Jesus has been sharing a new radical divine revelation the whole time. It’s the same message Peter rebuked Jesus for saying.

God’s purpose is not a military victory over Israel’s oppressors. God’s purpose is peace..

God’s purpose is not to give the Hebrews and Christ-followers all the world’s resources. God’s purpose is for all things to be shared abundantly among all people.

God’s purpose is not a cult of adulation. God’s purpose is the way of the cross.

As one biblical commentator puts it, God’s phrase, “Listen to him!” means that the disciples are to believe Jesus’ word that “rejection, suffering, death, and resurrection are integral to his messianic mission, and that the way of the cross is equally integral and inescapable for all who would follow him (cf. Mark 8:34–38).”*

There is always a chance that we would use the relative security of religion to wall us in from doing the real work of discipleship. The real work of discipleship is cruciform. It is going down from the mountain into the world that desperately needs the message of peace, love, hope, and unlimited forgiveness.

May you be aware of the times when your faith is “Peter-ing” out – the times when you desire to choose safety over service and comfort over care. God is on the mountain just as God is on the cross; but God also comes down from the mountain the same way God comes down from the cross.

The real work of discipleship is cruciform. It is risky and dangerous. It calls us to move away from false assurances and instead to take the leap of faith into a path we cannot see.

The real work of discipleship is cruciform. It is driven by a love “that refuses to “play the world’s power game of domination, exploitation, greed, and deception.”**

The real work of discipleship leads to the cross, where everything that needs to die is put to death; and everything beautiful rises again, and again, and again; because the beautiful things in life will come back to us.

Amen.

* Rodney J. Hunter, Feasting on the Word, p.452.
** Hunter, p.454.

Rats!

Petering Out On The Mountaintop