Holy Encounters

February 18, 2007

Transfiguration of the Lord
Exodus 34:29-35; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2; Luke 9:28-36
The Reverend Cathy S. Gilliard

This morning we have been invited to the mountain to catch a glimpse of God, only to return to the valley to live out our faith. In the summer of 1997, as I was completing my seminary studies at Duke Divinity School, I traveled with a group of other students, staff and alumni on a pilgrimage to the Middle East. Part of our excursion took us to the Sinai peninsula, where we visited Jebel Musa – the Mountain of Moses. Now, there remains speculation about whether or not the place we visited is actually the historical mountain where God allegedly spoke so often to Moses, but you can imagine the awe and wonder of us travelers being there.

We started out in the wee hours of the morning, something like 2 or 3:00 a.m. on camel-back – yes, on camel-back. And after several hours of slow climbing, we dismounted the animals and made the remainder of the trek on foot. There were narrow crevices, all sorts of twists and curves and bends. Still vivid in my memory is the uncanny quietness as we sat atop the mountain waiting for the morning sun to rise and looking out for miles and miles, placing ourselves in the context of the stories we had heard and read so much about.

Moses’ stories; Moses in dialogue with God. Somehow our creative imaginations allowed us to walk with him when he first met God in the burning bush while working on his father-in-law’s land. God told Moses to take off his shoes, for the ground on which he stood was holy ground. It was difficult for us to believe that anything in that area could ever be called “holy” – dry soil, with layers of rock, where no crops can grow and water is hard to find. It hardly looked like holy ground.

And yet, we are told that God was there. And God is no stranger to such places. You and I have most likely found ourselves in desolate places where it looked like no fruitful thing could emerge, only to discover that God was there. And that space, that ground, that social location became, well, “holy,” because God confronted us there, and we gained a new understanding – that wherever God confronts us, that ground is holy ground.

In today’s account of Moses, he is once again coming down from the mountain with the law in his hands. And the story goes that, as Moses comes down, it is clear that something has happened. His whole countenance has changed. His face is shining with dazzling brilliance because he has been in the presence of God. And so, Moses took to wearing a veil to cover his face because the people were afraid to look upon him. They were afraid to get too near the holy.

Likewise, in our gospel lesson, Jesus has gone up a mountain and had brought along with him Peter, James, and John. They have come away from their daily grind and the busy-ness of everyday life to pray and perhaps to rest awhile. And while Jesus was praying, the appearance of his face also changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly the disciples saw two men, this same Moses and Elijah, talking with him. And the prophets appeared in glory and were speaking to Jesus about what was to come. They saw his glory, and as they were about to leave, a cloud came and overshadowed them. And they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then, from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

For Luke, the mountain becomes a metaphor for the place to encounter God, where communion with God helps set a direction for action. For Luke it is not so much about a physical change of appearance but about what is to come – what one does in response to the experience.

Later, the disciples would be asked to heal a boy with a demoniac spirit but they could not. They could not grasp and embody the message of Jesus and who he is. Later, after the resurrection, all things would become clear.

And so the mirror shines in our faces. What do we see? How do we encounter the holy? And how do we respond?

God comes to us all the time. In worship with music and word and prayer. We saw the holy this morning with the baptism of Caroline, and earlier in broken bread and wine.

But holy ground does not have to be within the church walls; holy ground can be in the kitchen, or on a bus, or a subway, at work, at one’s desk , walking in the park, beside a hospital bed, or sitting alone waiting for phone to ring with the report of some critical news. If God enters your threshold of awareness, it is holy ground.

I’ve begun to look for those moments in my life; to try to pay closer attention. They are all around me – more than I can count. And they are all around you as well. Moments where you have been inspired to live your life in a different way.

Yes, I have been to the mountain of Moses but I have had many other mountain experiences. Many of which have been right here among you at Christ Church. Like our first missions trip to Biloxi after Hurricane Katrina. Gathered there among hundreds of other volunteers from around the country: college students on spring break; clergy and lay people working together. Pockets of people everywhere working on roof-tops, from all sorts of backgrounds, sharing sparse living quarters, theological perspectives, different styles of worship, but with one common goal and purpose. In the midst of such unquestionable devastation, there was a mysterious presence of God calling us together onto holy ground.

And, like a recent conversation I had in my office with a 20-something: a beautiful young woman, so full of promise; bursting with all sorts of possibilities. Full of dreams and ambition; full of new hope and great promise for the future. Most likely unaware of her own full potential, and how she has been divinely shaped all her life to do something wonderful in the world. She was so open to life and so willing to engage and participate in her own good fortune. Willing to ask the right questions and make strides to bring her dreams to fruition. I tell you I was inspired. I thought to myself, “WOW – surely the world is indeed at her feet.” And it made my heart glad.

Or a few weeks ago, during a lesson on the 6th floor with Quincy & Ty, Liam and Ian, Theo and Katharine, and a discussion about the Lord’s table and who is included and who is not; their own eagerness for justice and the profession of their faith; their understanding of servant leadership – that even they could do something to help somebody. It took my breath away. And I have not forgotten it. It has stayed with me and made me look at my work and ministry in a new light.

In my former church we would say, "I looked at my hands and they looked new. I looked down at my feet and they did too. Why? Because a change; a wonderful change has come all over me." Meaning simply that something has happened. One has been catapulted, thrust into a new understanding – a new awareness of what it means to belong to the family of God. And one can never go back and be the same. The only direction from that place is straight ahead.

Martin King understood it too. You remember his final speech, don’t you? I think perhaps King had been to that very mountain that Jesus took his disciples. He knew that the tide was turning; death was imminent. He knew that there was no turning back now.

King had a dream; a vision of God’s kingdom. He realized that the mountaintop is not a place for making our dwelling, but for seeing God’s vision for us, that we might see how God wants the world to look. I think that in his vision, he imagined that Sunday mornings would look like this. That we would all be gathered in a place like this – where God’s love for us and our love for God and for one another would allow people of all colors and backgrounds to come together and do the work necessary to live in peace, as one family; as brothers and sisters. And then, go out into the world to live out our faith in such a way that the mountain and the valley would become level ground.

King spoke to a crowd gathered to protest the mistreatment of sanitation workers by the city of Memphis, Tennessee. He had embraced God’s vision of love and compassion for all people. His yearning for a beloved community would not let him rest. He had been so spurred by what he had seen. Willing to work until the end.

In his last speech that night, King told the crowd: “As you know, if I were standing at the beginning of time, with the possibility of general and panoramic view of the whole human history up to now, and the Almighty said to me, “Martin Luther King, which age would you like to live in?” I would take my mental flight by Egypt through, or rather across the Red Sea, through the wilderness on toward the promised land. And in spite of its magnificence, I wouldn’t stop there. I would move on by Greece, and take my mind to Mount Olympus. And I would see Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, Euripides and Aristophanes assembled around the Parthenon as they discussed the great and eternal issues of reality.”[1]

And King went on to trace the history of all human kind. And finally, he went on to say, “Well, I don’tknow what will happen now, we’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over, and I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. And so I’m happy tonight, I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”[2]
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[1] Edited by James M. Washington, A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr., p. 279.
[2] Ibid., p. 286.

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