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Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Coming of the LordFebruary 03, 2008 Transfiguration of the Lord I’ve always found the story of the transfiguration of Jesus you just heard Cathy read a jarring interruption to the flow of the gospel plotline. The content of this little interlude is sort of “out there”, even by the standards of the New Testament narrative. Was this a group hallucination? Did the disciples actually witness some kind of mystical transformation? Was it someone’s dream? Is it a misplaced resurrection account? Evidently the early church thought this was an important vignette, given that it’s one of the very few stories that appears in Matthew, Mark and Luke, beyond the accounts of Jesus’ baptism and passion. It comes as a marker somewhere near the midpoint of his ministry. Matthew’s version repeats the divine voice of approval heard at Jesus’ baptism, “This is my son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased.” It takes place on a mountain, reminiscent of the account of Moses receiving the Ten Commandments. Jesus is shown to be the heir, even the embodiment of the major Jewish traditions of the law and the prophets with the appearance of Moses and Elijah. There’s the smoky mysterious setting, the radiant glow, and that divine approval. Raphael’s famous painting captures the romantic ideal of the episode with Jesus hovering in midair surrounded by a glowing cloud, the disciples cowering in fear. What’s a post-modern spiritual seeker supposed to make of all this? Hard to say exactly, because that’s how it is with stories of spiritual revelation - they defy scientific scrutiny, that’s for sure. This supposed transfiguration concerns an epiphany, or spiritual awakening - a peeling back of the veneer of surface reality to reveal a deeper truth, truth that resists experimental method and analysis. It functions on a different plane, I suppose we could say. The truth within this story pertains to Jesus’ identity. On the one hand, he’s a rabbi traipsing around the Galilean countryside who many hope will help restore Israel from the oppressive Romans. But then again, something else is going on. Ascending the mountain, Peter, James and John see something they had not recognized before. It’s the same Jesus, but Jesus in a different light. In this way this story is all about seeing what’s been true all along but hidden from view. (By the way, this isn’t a bad thumbnail definition of the spiritual quest: Seeing, or discovering, or seeking that which has been true all along but hidden from view.) How many times have we said in here that we all share the same spiritual genetics, that we are all children of God. Peel back the veneer of the physical appearance of any one of us, we say, and we find the same sacred DNA. Well, how do we come to know such a thing? Science doesn’t tell us this. Something else reveals this truth, some deeper knowing, some deeper discovery; it comes with a different set of eyes. Remember Martin Luther King's "Mountain Top Speech" the night before he was shot to death in Memphis. He said: "Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountain top. 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 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." “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” You sense how that phrase captures better than any other phrase he could have conjured the truth of what he saw that day. He saw God’s glory surely as did Peter, James and John. On my recent trip to Jerusalem a couple of weeks ago the little band of interfaith colleagues I traveled with were received into the home of a woman named Dalia Eshkenazi Landau where we heard a compelling story that inspired a recent book entitled The Lemon Tree. [1] Serving us tea and various treats we spent the next several hours listening to her searingly poignant tale of her awakening. In 1967, Bashir Kahiri, a 25-year-old Palestinian journeyed to Israel with the goal of seeing the beloved old stone house with the lemon tree behind it that he and his family had fled 19 years earlier. This evacuation came about as a result of the partition plan following World War II creating the nation of Israel. When he found the house he was greeted by Dalia, then a 19-year old Israeli college student, whose family fled Bulgaria for Israel following the Holocaust. They moved into the house Bashir’s family had built. On the stoop of their shared home, Dalia and Bashir began a rare friendship, forged in the aftermath of war and tested over the next four decades. Bashir was eventually imprisoned for his role in the Palestinian resistance. Throughout these years, they maintained a powerful, if difficult, bond. Dalia spoke clearly and honestly about her love of Israel and her deep commitment to retaining her relationship with Bashir and her deepening awareness and understanding of the complicated context among Jews and Palestinians - each conceived as the alien “Other”. This was not a sentimental story. She was not a pious naïf. She struck me as a realist of a most amazing sort, someone who had an awakening, who had been given the gift of spiritual sight. She saw that the man named Bashir standing in her doorway was a flesh and blood man, potentially her enemy, but in truth, peeling away the veneer, she saw her neighbor, even friend. As she said, “Our enemy is the only partner we have.” In 1991, having inherited the house from her parents, Dalia decided to turn it into an early childhood education center for Arab children, a place of encounter between Arab and Jew. She called it Open House. In 1995, 20-year-old San Diego State University student Tariq Khamisa was shot and killed when delivering two pizzas. The gun-wielder was a 14-year-old gang recruit who fired the lethal shot on orders from his 18-year-old gang leader. The response of Tariq’s father, Azim, a Sufi Muslim, was unusual, to say the least -- instead of demanding revenge and retribution, he saw two sons lost, one forever and the other to the prison system. Azim says, “From the onset, I saw victims on both ends of the gun. I will mourn Tariq’s death for the rest of my life. Now, however, my grief has been transformed into a powerful commitment to change. Change is urgently needed in a society where children kill children.” [2] In order to find meaning in Tariq’s death, Azim, an international businessman, founded the Tariq Khasima Foundation. [3] Immediately he also reached out to the grandfather and guardian of the boy who killed Tariq in forgiveness and a spirit of reconciliation. Together they dedicated their lives to addressing youth violence. In the last decade they have addressed tens of thousands of school children through their Violence Impact Forum, a program that features “the power of forgiveness” to break cycles of violence. How is it that a father can look into the eyes of his son’s murderer and see something other than a two-dimensional perp worthy only of ruthless vengeance. How is it that after seeing the 14-year-old this father can find his life set on a course of commitment to radical change, to partner with the boy’s guardian grandfather and together, out of their anguish, work for good? How does that happen but for a transfiguring experience where veneers are pulled back and the alien “other” is seen as neighbor and partner. This doesn’t come about by way of scientific analysis. Its much closer to “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” I think you can sense the truth of that. Normally, when I prepare a sermon, I am always certain about how it will end. Today, as I was coming here, I could not work out how I was going to end this. I got to this point, and thought, "Have I said it? Is there something more to say? I feel there's something ore to say..." So, I took a risk and thought, "I'll go up there and see what happens." This is what happened - true story - I was getting dressed and my blackberry buzzed. This is the message, from Sheik Abdul Azziz Bukare, who I met in Jerusalem, the man who gave us a tour of the Temple Mount - a beautiful man. "It was delightful to have you in Jerusalem on your visit to the Holy Land. As you know, our work for peace is not easy, but with the cooperation of other partners it becomes much easier. Please don't hesitate to contact me for anything. Looking forward to working together with you for the sake of peace. If you have any suggestions or thoughts you have to share with us, it would be appreciated. Hope to see you again in Jerusalem. Sincerely, Sheik Abdul Azziz Bukare." And I thought to myself, "Mine eyes have seen the glory!" ____________ Previous sermon: Bathed in Light • Next sermon: Ashes to Ashes All past sermons |
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