Sermon preached by The Rev'd Richard Tombaugh

St. Paul’s on the Green, Norwalk, Connecticut

The Last Sunday after the Epiphany – February 3, 2008

Originally named Simon, Saint Peter was one complicated guy. He like his brother, Andrew, was a Galilean fisherman from the village of Bethsaida. And, of course, as we all know, Jesus gave him the nickname Peter, (which in Greek means “rock) as a sign of his future role as an upholder of the traditions Jesus established. Peter was impetuous, deeply loyal to Jesus, sometimes rash and other times incredibly insightful.

Today’s gospel provides us with one examples of his rashness. On the top of the mount of the transfiguration Peter, James and John first witness Jesus shining brightly like sunshine on a summer day. Then they see the figures of Moses and Elijah and hear a voice saying “This is my Son, the Beloved, with him I am well pleased, listen to him.” The symbolism of this story is powerful. In Jewish belief both Moses and Elijah are associated with messiahship. Both were believed to have been taken bodily into heaven, just as Jesus was soon to be taken up. Moses represents the Jewish law as found in the first five books of the Bible and Elijah represents the many prophets that we read about in the Bible. The Law and the Prophets are therefore in this story confirming Christ’s suffering messiahship.

As soon as their vision passes, Peter manages to put his foot in his mouth again. Filled with all the best intentions Peter proposes that they try to capture and retain the experience by building three tabernacles or shrines. Peter wants to put this vision in a box or shrine so that it will never disappear, never be lost. Peter and the others have had a brief glimpse of Our Lord’s glorious divinity and Peter understandably wants to hold onto this glimpse forever. “Lord, it is good for us to be here; If you wish I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.”

However understandable it might be, Peter rashly misunderstood the situation and its meaning. He was wrong to suggest building three dwellings. He was wrong for two reasons. First, Peter was trying symbolically to keep Jesus on the top of the mountain. Whether he was aware of what he was doing or not, he was trying to use the top of the mountain as an escape from the ordeal of the crucifixion that was soon to follow. Second, Peter’s proposal to build three dwellings suggests that the vision they had just had was the fullest and most profound experience of God he would ever have.

Building a religious shrine on the mountain top could not prevent his beloved Master from entering into his ordeal of suffering and death. Immediately after Jesus and the three disciples come down from that mountain they set out directly on the road leading to Jerusalem. The next time we see Jesus on a hill he is hanging on a cross.

This gospel story always occurs on the Sunday before Lent begins. As we come down from this Sunday, we move to Ash Wednesday and set out on our own Lenten journey to Holy Week and Easter. Peter did not know what he was suggesting. It was absolutely essential that Jesus suffer crucifixion and rise from the dead so that we might learn forever that though God’s purpose may be thwarted by our sin, it can never be permanently or ultimately defeated. Each Lent we walk with Our Lord and his disciples on their way to Jerusalem so we will remember the divine truth that God redeems suffering. The discipline of Lent is meant to remind us that the fullness and joy of Easter comes by God’s transfiguration of the fasting and penitence of the forty days before. Peter was wrong to imagine that his Messiah could ever escape suffering and death.

Peter was also wrong to think that his brief vision of the transfigured Christ was the richest he would ever find or need. Forty-four years ago this spring I walked with thousands of others on the dusty road to Montgomery, Alabama, to support the cause for civil rights. It took most of the day to make the trip and as we walked we talked with each other. I walked for several hours next to a young coed who, discovering I was a priest, told me directly that she did not believe in God. “We’ve got plenty of time,” I said, “Tell me about this God you don’t believe in.” She did – at great length – and when she finished, I said simply “I don’t believe in that God either.” The image of God she talked about might have been sufficient for a seven-year old, but it certainly did not work for this bright and thoughtful young woman. She had, as it were, built a tabernacle or shrine for a God she had learned about during her early years and kept this understanding locked up in this shrine. She had gotten older, but her understanding of God and her relationship with God had not grown up.

Peter would later see and talk with the risen Lord. He would come to know his Messiah in the fullness of his resurrection glory – a glory that Peter had only briefly glimpsed on the mount of the transfiguration. Each day after that Peter would grow in his faith and understanding of the power of God. His growing faith and understanding would make it possible for a simple fisherman to be a great leader – a rock – in the developing church. In like manner we are called to grow in our faith and understanding throughout our entire lives. We cannot afford to stop at some point in our spiritual development and lock God in a religious shrine. If we do, we may find ourselves at some critical point in our lives needing to rely on the strength of God but unable, like my coed partner on our walk, to find God.

We cannot tarry, you and I, at whatever point we are currently in our relationship with God. We dare not attempt to freeze our current understanding of God and put it in some safe place. I suspect that is why this Gospel always is used before Lent begins. It sets forth clearly the reason for the Lenten journey. Each of us is called to move to an ever deeper understanding of God in our lives and in this community. The journey will be different for each of us. The road will be dusty and sometimes bumpy. However, the promise at the end of the journey never changes: we are all to be nourished by a vision of the glory of the risen Christ.