February 3, 2008 Transfiguration "Holy Encounter" Matthew

I made a pilgrimage the other day to the house that belonged to our late member Alf Brady. It's the first place I lived in Franklin Lakes when we came here in April, 1985 (the manse wasn't ready yet). And it's a place where many special church gatherings took place over the years. It stands empty, with moss-covered roof and a futile tarpaulin trying to keep out the weather, awaiting the demolition that surely will come to it. I might wish to go back in time, but the Spirit has moved on, and we who seek to travel with God must do so, too.

There is a story—a legend, really—retold by Scott Peck as "The Rabbi's Gift." There was an old monastery that had fallen on hard times. Once a great center of prayer and pilgrimage, it had suffered through anti-monastic persecutions, then an increasingly secular world, and, finally, economic hardship. After years of adversity, the monastery had dwindled in both stature and size until there were only crumbling buildings and a meager community of five monks, all of them over the age of 70. Clearly it was a dying order.

They had grown despondent over their faithless world and their own bleak future, and become increasingly suspicious and resentful, blaming each other for the failure so apparent around them. They focused their attention on their own private piety and what they thought of as their own spiritual well being.

At the edge of the woods, an old rabbi had built a small hut that he had used for years as a place of prayer and retreat. The monks were aware of his presence and sensed his deep spirituality, but had never really had any contact with him. One day, however, the abbot, feeling deeply depressed about the state of the monastery, decided to visit the rabbi to pour out some of his fears and concerns. The rabbi welcomed the abbot at his hut. But when the abbot explained the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only commiserate with him. “I know how it is,” he exclaimed. “The spirit has gone out of the people. It is the same in my town. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.” So the old abbot and the old rabbi wept together. Then they read parts of the Torah and quietly spoke of deep things. When it was time for him to leave, the abbot stood at the door and said, “Rabbi: isn’t there any advice you can give me?” “I’m sorry,” the rabbi replied. “I don’t have any advice. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is among you.”

Stunned, the abbot, walked back to the monastery. The other monks gathered around him and asked what the rabbi had said. The abbot replied, “All I can say is that we met, we wept, and we read Torah together. But, then, when I was at the door, he told me something very strange. He said me that the Messiah is one of us. I don’t know what he meant.”

As the days passed and grew into months, the old monks pondered the meaning of the rabbi’s words. “The Messiah is among us?” Could he have meant one of us? if he meant anyone, he probably meant Father Abbot. He has been our leader for more than a generation. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas. Certainly Brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light. Certainly he could not have meant Brother Elred! Elred gets crotchety at times. But come to think of it, even though he is a thorn in people’s sides, when you look back on it, Elred is virtually always right. Often very right. Maybe the rabbi did mean Brother Elred. But surely not Brother Phillip. Phillip is so passive, a real nobody. But then, almost mysteriously, he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. He just magically appears by your side. Maybe Phillip is the Messiah. Of course the rabbi didn’t mean me. He couldn’t possibly have meant me. I’m just an ordinary person. Yet supposing he did? Suppose I am the Messiah? O God, not me. I couldn’t be that much for You, could I?         

As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one among them might be the Messiah. And on the off-off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.

Because the forest in which it was situated was beautiful, it so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the monastery to picnic on its tiny lawn, to wander along some of its paths, even now and then to go into the dilapidated chapel to meditate. As they did so, without even being conscious of it, they sensed the aura of extraordinary respect that now began to surround the five old monks and seemed to radiate out from them and permeate the atmosphere of the place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling, about it. Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently to picnic, to play, to pray. They began to bring their friends to show them this special place. And their friends brought their friends.

Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another. So within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order and, thanks to the rabbi’s gift, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in the realm. M. Scott Peck The Different Drum (New York: Simon & Shuster), 1987.]

 The Transfiguration! On the mountain, close to God, Jesus and Peter, James and John, encounter the holy Presence. The high places are often "thin places," and the invisible world of Spirit becomes visible to them. Moses and Elijah, the Law and the Prophets, are talking with Jesus. It's as though Peter, James and John have a preview of Easter. And they hear the Voice--the same Voice that Jesus heard at his baptism--saying "This is my own dear Son, and I am pleased with him. Listen to what he says!"

 The three disciples were so afraid that they fell flat on the ground like dead men. But Jesus raised them up. He said, "Don't be afraid." And they walked together down the mountain and all the way to Jerusalem, to death and beyond.

 The story of the Transfiguration speaks to us of the Glory of God, shining in the face of Jesus. The same God who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," has made each one of us in the image of God. We can put Jesus on a pedestal, or leave him on the mountain in a shelter, or hide him in a shrine. But what Jesus wants is for us to travel with him! To learn to see the Glory in each other's faces as well.

"And so we are transfigured much like the Messiah, our lives gradually becoming brighter and more beautiful as God enters our lives and we become like him."  --2 Cor. 3:18 The Message

 The "Holy Encounter" is not confined to the Mount of Transfiguration! It is revealed whenever we open ourselves to the possibility that the Messiah is among us. The Trappist Monk, Thomas Merton, wrote of a moment when he saw each person as Transfigured:

 "I was in Louisville, Kentucky, in the shopping mall, when I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people around me, even though they were complete strangers. It felt like waking from a dream. It was as if I could see the secret beauty in their hearts, the deep self where sin and ego can't reach, the core of their reality, the person that each is in God's eyes. I couldn't explain it. How can you go up to people and tell them they're walking around shining like the sun? If only they could see themselves as they truly are. If only we could all see each other that way all the time. I suppose the problem would be that we'd fall down and worship each other."

--Thomas Merton, Confessions of a Guilty Bystander

As Jesus’ love shines into our hearts, God’s Spirit fills us with the same compassion, trust, patience, and unconditional love. May Jesus' forgiving love shine in us and through us so that we can be a light for God’s love in this world. May the Holy Encounter lead us to shine the light of Jesus, in us and through us! Amen