Sermon, 2/19/23: Did you see what I see? | St. James Episcopal Church in Somerville, MA

Last Epiphany (7 Epiphany)

Psalm 2; Exodus 24:12–18; 2 Peter 1:16–21; Matthew 17:1–9

But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.’ (Matt.17:7)

During the Cuban Missile Crisis 1962, when the minute hand of the Doomsday Clock stood close to striking midnight, a married couple, Noel Regney and Gloria Shayne Baker, wrote in October of that year what has become a popular Christmas carol. That carol bears the title “Do you hear what I hear?” or variably “Do you see what I see?” I refrain from singing it in its entirety, but I do want to recite it for you, but without the refrain.

Said the mighty wind to the little lamb,
Do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb,
Do you see what I see?
A Star, a Star
Dancing in the night
With a tail as big as a kite.

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy,
Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy,
Do you hear what I hear?
A Song a Song
High above the trees
With a voice as big as the sea.

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king,
Do you know what I know?
In your palace warm, mighty king,
Do you know what I know?
A Child, a Child
Shivers in the cold,
Let us bring him silver and gold.

Said the king to the people everywhere,
Listen to what I say.
Pray for peace, people everywhere.
Listen to what I say.
The child, the child,
Sleeping in the night,
He will bring us goodness and light.

I want next to read again how another group, three men led by Peter, reacted to the same message of hope and peace on earth, but millennia prior to October 1962 and the Cuban Missile Crisis, a crisis now so removed in our national history, as to be declared by some ancient, but which in the minds of other is a real, as were it just yesterday. The crisis is real, because it is replicated by war in Africa, the Middle East, and on the European Continent, and the steady annihilation of innocent people.

The message of hope and peace on earth resounds in St. Matthew’s gospel: “And Jesus was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white…Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘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.’” (Matt. 17:///)

Perhaps, on the surface, it is not so immediately evident that a Christmas carol which speaks in gentle tones about the birth of a child and a recollection of Matthew about an event on a mountain involving four men have much in common. What binds them to each other is, of course, the central figure, Jesus of Nazareth, as a baby and Jesus in his mature stature. However, there is more. Each account, the poem as well as Matthew’s descriptive summary, addresses, in its own way, the reason for the appearance of Jesus as that unique messenger from God our Creator. That message did not change from the time of Christ’s birth to the beginning of a ministry that wants to make real the message ‘peace on earth.’ And then, there emerges a third element, that binds them both, and that is how we, as people of faith in 2023, are challenged to receive and share and actualize that message.

Throughout the history of humankind, poetry has been used to capture real events, as well as imaginary ones. The Christmas carol, describing a night wind speaking to a lamb, which speaks in turn to a shepherd boy, who speaks, in turn, to the king, is no less worthy of our attention. However, I turn to today’s lectionary, to the gospel which has recorded what three men, rough and tumble men, hard-working me, men of the people, fishermen, men not likely to be taken in easily by false claims or magic. These men claim to have witnessed something with their own eyes. And, it was not one isolated man, but three. That scenario, while difficult for the human mind to fathom, is believable. People like us saw something, witnessed something. And it is that something to which I turn.

I ask myself the question, which I put to you this morning for your own individual and private reflections, what would it be like to be caught up fully, totally, completely in the presence of God? If I had such an encounter with The Holy, what would my outer appearance look like? Where would my mind, my cognitive processes be? How would others perceive me? Would I be considered a wizard as in Harry Potter? Would those who saw me, become afraid of me and want to cast me out as an aberration? Would I be burned at the stake, as were many in the Christian Era as witches and wizards and as possessed of a demon? Everything in my upbringing teaches me that such as described by Matthew is not an integral part of being human. Everyday human life is literally mundane, down to earth, without markable or remarkable significance. Yet, something occurred on that mountain.

So, you see, today’s gospel, buttressed by the Old Testament lesson of Moses’ presence before God, when his face glows, calls forth questions and problems for believers and non-believers alike. That Jesus would be seen talking to Moses and Elijah and having his own figure changed into something never before seen by human eyes—now that is pure magic. Yet, we are expected to believe the account. And my inquisitive mind evokes another question. Why is this account essential Matthew? The same question is raised regarding the account in the Gospel according to St. Luke. For Luke, the Transfiguration, this unique appearance of Jesus, was the Epiphany, the credentials needed by Jesus to engage in ministry. For Matthew, this unlikely appearance set the stage for a ministry that ends in the crucifixion.

Over these weeks in Epiphany, gospel lessons have followed Jesus’ career of healing, of doing unusual, superhuman feats. And we know from accounts made by disciples of Jesus to him, that Jesus was not the only one who went about healing and caring for those in need. Out of and because of these acts, Peter and even some of those healed by Jesus declare Jesus to be the son of God, or at least Moses or one of the prophets. They see something special, something magical, something supernatural in him. And when Peter, James, and John follow him onto the mountain, where Jesus went to get away from the crowds and to pray, to reground himself, they witness the ultimate. They see something that was so awesome, greater even than Moses’ burning bush or Elijah’s whirlwind.

Matthew’s account, which on the surface is as inexplicable as trees speaking to lambs, and lambs to shepherd boys, and lowly shepherd boys getting the ear of the king, is really quite simple and explainable. Matthew addresses or describes relationships. Peter, James, and John lacked what we all lack, you and I, when something out of the ordinary grabs our attention or comes into our lives. They lacked the vocabulary and imagination required to explain something that moved them, that motivated them so deeply that they were in shock and awe. Given their background, what they proposed was logical, completely expected.

What we are left with, you and I, is the challenge to see Jesus now through our own 21^st century lens and to be moved by him to declare, like Peter, that Jesus is the Son of God, Prince of Peace. As we sort all this out, and not once, but often daily, what we further discover, as did Peter, and James and John, is that we cannot box Jesus in, cannot make him fit our limited perception of him. Peter wished to but could not remain on that trans-figurative high. Jesus brought them back into the valley. We learn, thereby, that the mystical experience is not a goal, in and of itself.

Like Peter, James, and John, so we cannot live apart from our own humanity and that of others; we cannot erect booths that would constrict the expansive love that God has for us all, as shown in the person of Jesus Christ. The dazzling brilliance of the message of the Son of God—this vision is what makes our ministries in the valley, where you and I live, valid and possible.

Like Peter, we exclaim: “It is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings.” But, Jesus, the Messiah of God, does not allow us to become comfortable. And as we read of Peter, James, and John, so do we hear those words of encouragement: “Get up and do not be afraid.” And we will only be able to explain him to ourselves, as we live out his ministry among others. I suggest further that it is our ministry which is the silver and gold proclaimed in the lyrics of the beautiful Christmas poem of yore.

AMEN