Gospel: Luke 9:28-36
The time spent recovering from an illness certainly offers opportunities for a fresh perspective on things. Daily activities that seemed mundane are suddenly missed. Things that were done easily and almost without thinking now require much more effort and concentration. The rest once needed to recharge at the end of a busy day is now instead needed to just get through the day.
The scenes of Jesus’ Transfiguration found in the Gospels are some of my favorites anywhere in the Bible. Usually I’m focused on what the three disciples were seeing with Jesus that day: the change in his clothes and his face; the sudden appearance of Moses and Elijah, standing with him on the mountain and talking to him (and if they were like me, wondering what they were talking about). This time, however, I find myself more focused – in the aftermath of my latest journey with COVID – on what they were feeling.
Peter, James, and John were weighed down with sleep. They were tired. For this past week, that’s what I’ve been: tired. Both times I’ve had COVID, that’s been the worst thing for me – the tiredness and fatigue. The first time I had it, it took me about three weeks to shake that feeling; while I’m praying it fades more quickly this time, I’m also not going to be surprised if it doesn’t. But feeling this way, at this moment, put me right there with these three trusted disciples. Feeling weighed down.
Again, they were weighed down by sleep; that’s the word, even in the original Greek. But I’m going to offer the suggestion that the real relevance of this passage to all of us – the relevance of these few words – is as a lesson that sleep isn’t all that’s weighing us down. The ability of Scripture to pull us into these moments also is its ability to let us bring in what we’re carrying with us. Look at how this moment of Transfiguration can speak to so many more by changing just one word to acknowledge the reality being lived by so many.
Peter and his companions were weighed down with illness.
Peter and his companions were weighed down with grief.
Peter and his companions were weighed down with fear.
Peter and his companions were weighed down with addiction.
Peter and his companions were weighed down with depression.
Peter and his companions were weighed down with poverty.
Peter and his companions were weighed down with abuse.
Peter and his companions were weighed down with unemployment.
Peter and his companions were weighed down with hunger.
Like so much of the Bible, this isn’t a passage that’s there for us to simply read and ponder. It’s a passage for us to put ourselves into, to live. It’s a scene inviting us to be participants. It’s a moment asking each one of us to bring our burdens with us, not leave them on the doorstep before coming in. If you accept that invitation to come in, you’ll also discover something else.
You’ll also see that it’s not Jesus alone who is transfigured. It’s the disciples who are changed. Peter, speaking and acting on behalf of James and John, is suddenly energized. He recognizes the enormity of what they’ve just seen, even if he doesn’t indicate he understands it. He wants to continue dwelling in that moment, to stay in that place of wonder. They’ve had a mountaintop experience so great that they don’t want to come down. Moments ago they were tired; now they’re wondering what to do next with their lives.
As I’ve thought about this passage, I’ve also been thinking a lot about my friend Kate and where she is on that mountain. Kate was a seminary classmate who’s gone on to become an outstanding priest. She married another of our classmates, built a wonderful life, and is deeply committed to church growth and vitality. At the height of the pandemic Kate got COVID, but unlike so many others who dealt with a brief period of discomfort before recovering and moving on, hers turned into long COVID with serious consequences. Her heart has been damaged to the point that she’s unable to stand for long periods, spending most of her time in a motorized chair, on a sofa, or in bed. She’s had to give up parish ministry. Her old life suddenly became very limited.
I do see Kate on the mountain that day, with Peter, James, and John, joining them in the feeling of being weighed down. I see her watching in wonder at the Transfiguration of Christ, trying to listen along with everyone else to what Jesus is saying to Moses and Elijah. And I see what Kate has done since, as her ministry – her old life – has been transformed into something new. She’s become a powerful disability rights advocate. She uses her online platform to educate people about the Episcopal Church. She invites people to share her journey and learn about life with long COVID. She uses her ministry to give voice to those without one and shares a view of life led by those with disabilities with those who may be blind to the reality of what that life is like.
Kate may not be in a pulpit, but she’s a powerful preacher nonetheless – not just with her words but through her life. And unlike Peter, who wanted to stay in the moment on the mountaintop, Kate has come down from the mountain – not living in silence about what she sees but rather serving as witness to what she lives. In my view, my friend went up as a priest and has come down a prophet. Kate, too, was transfigured.
The past six weeks have many feeling like they’re back on the mountain, joining Peter, James, and John in a moment of being weighed down by one more thing: uncertainty. We don’t need an Old Testament prophetic voice to tell us what’s wrong in the world. It’s not taking Elijah or Jeremiah to shout at us to bear witness, not look away. We’re inundated by it: reading it on social media; witnessing it on 24-hour news; hearing it through the experiences of friends and loved ones whose lives are being impacted.
We’re witnessing it in local council chambers and on the world stage. We’re witnessing it on battlefields and in hospital wards. We’re witnessing it as it’s lived out by those finding themselves faced with having to do more with less. We’re witnessing those things that before we were sure of now being turned on their heads. We’re witnessing friendships on which we’d relied being damaged, perhaps irreparably. Certainty is being replaced by doubt.
We as a nation and as a world are on that mountain, with those disciples, weighed down. In that moment I don’t think Peter saw hope. I don’t think James and John saw anything beyond their tiredness. But we know the rest of the story, and we know what comes next. The Jesus standing before them becomes new. Their sense of purpose is reborn. Fatigue is replaced by energy. Questions are replaced by new answers. The moment of newness is taken into the world, and the world is transformed.
So on this day when we remember the Transfiguration of Christ and those transformed by their witness to the moment, I pray for that vision again. I pray that we all – individually and collectively – have one of those mountaintop moments. And I pray that we as a world are reinvigorated to come down from the mountain to transform the world and not just say what Christ has done but live it.
Amen.