August 6, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Well, if you are a lectionary nerd, the lections being what we read on Sunday, you might notice that this isn’t the Tenth Sunday After Pentecost. It would be, but August 6th is the Feast of the Transfiguration, and as it landed on a Sunday…well, we get those readings instead. Now, astute folks will think – but wait! Don’t we celebrate the Transfiguration on the last Sunday of Epiphany? I am sure you’all were just thinking that, right? Why yes! It’s just so nice, we do it twice!
Seriously though, today we get to hear that gospel, and the story of Moses in Exodus that is always paired with it, and it is that narrative – the one of Moses – that we often bypass, but not today…so, here we go.
Now, when we think of this story of Moses, sometimes we imagine a Charlton Heston look – and The Ten Commandments was an awesome film, but let’s take a deeper look at our guy Moses. So here is the story:
Moses had been up on the mountaintop busily taking dictation from God about “Thou shall not this,” or “Thou shall do that.” And, as the old joke goes, Moses downloaded all of that into the first tablet before heading down to see his peeps in the valley below. When those folks saw Moses, they didn’t want to come near because his face was shining from his encounter with God. Moses said “Come on over you guys…really, it’s safe and I want to be with you all.” They came, and then after he talked to them, Moses put a veil on his face.
But apparently, Moses and God were not done having lunchtime chats, so whenever Moses was going to see God, we get this really interesting twist on things: Moses would drop his veil, and would leave it off until after he shared what God said with the Israelites, his face always shining brightly.
Now, outside of an interesting wardrobe choice, what is up with this veil on/veil off bit and that whole shining face stuff?
Well, folks, that – that is something we need to pay attention to – in fact, it is the reason we are sitting here today – or at least it should be.
Let’s start with Moses going up and down that mountain – now that’s got to get old really quickly. I can just imagine many of us saying – really God? Can’t I just watch a livestream or can’t we meet via Zoom? This is taking a toll on my knees. And yet, he goes – every single time. He makes the effort to go to where he can most experience an encounter with God. Not that he can’t experience God elsewhere, of course he can. But in those days, there were places that were sacred – the thin places – where one really felt they experienced most the divine presence of God: the temple of course, and the mountaintop.
We have our thin places too – one of them is here – right here in this very place. It isn’t easy, I know, with all the busy-ness of the world, to make it here on Sunday mornings. As airlines say as the plane lands at an airport “we know you could choose any airline…” Well, God knows you could have chosen to stay home too, but you didn’t – and neither did Moses.
But it is what Moses does when he goes up there, when he goes to that thin place to encounter God – that is a telling thing. What does he do? He lowers his veil.
What veils do we wear in life? Now, some may actually wear a veil – a bride perhaps, and others in different faith traditions. But there are other veils we wear, ones we put on every day, perhaps without even knowing it. Yet Moses understood that when dialoging with the Almighty, it is time to drop it. The text doesn’t explain why, but it doesn’t take a seminary degree to figure it out, does it?
To truly experience the living God, we need to let go of our covers – our clutter that keeps us from focusing on what is important, our veil of self-importance that prevents us from truly seeing, truly listening, to anything other than ourselves – we need to drop all of that and approach God with vulnerability and openness, rooted in humility.
Humility, to be clear, isn’t about beating ourselves up, for we are a good creation of God, who loves us unconditionally. No, humility is about truth – truth which carries no pretense, no sense of self-importance. And that type of openness, that humility, is the vulnerability of setting down the veils we put in front of us.
And if we are to be filled with the presence of God’s grace, God’s love – if we are to shine like the sun from the light of God flowing in us – then we need to be willing to shed the veil of our fears, our ego, our concerns – and be open to receiving in those thin places, in those conversations with our Creator, the divine spark of life. We need this…and so do those we meet as we come down from the proverbial mountaintop.
Because as noted earlier – Moses doesn’t put that veil back after he says “see ya later alligator” to God on high. Nope – he leaves it off as he talks to others about what just happened.
I am reminded of a story.
It is from Robert Fulghum’s book It Was on Fire When I Lay Down on It. “In this book Fulghum “describes Alexander Papaderos, a teacher of Greek culture, a politician, a doctor of philosophy and more. On the island of Crete, next to the mass graves of Germans and Cretans who fought each other so bitterly in World War II, Papaderos founded an institute for peace which has become the source of bridge-building between the two countries. Folghum wondered, “What kind of vision motivates a man like Papaderos to transcend the focus on the individual self and dedicate his life to compassion and peace?”
Papaderos explained it this way: “When I was a small child, during the war we were poor and lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place…. I kept one, the largest piece…. By scratching it on a stone, I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine – in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.
I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became [mature], I grew to understand that this was a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But light truth, understanding, knowledge – is there, and it will shine in many dark places only if I reflect it…I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have, I can reflect light into the dark places of the world…and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise”‘” [1]
And that, my friends, is what happens with Moses too.
He understands that he is not shining because he is God. He is “a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape [he doesn’t] know” But Moses does know that he can reflect that light into the dark places of the world…and change some things in some people,” that “perhaps others may see and do likewise.”
You know what that is? That is evangelism.
Now, we don’t like to use that word because some others have made it something hateful, something that tells/judges/abuses rather than listens/includes/loves. But evangelism is not about us and what we want. Evangelism is a spiritual practice that comes out of our encounter with God here in this thin place we call the church.
When we shine like the sun by our experience of the risen Christ – of God in our lives – of the presence of the Holy Spirit – we have to ask ourselves – do others perceive it, or do we hide it away under the veil of our daily lives?
Because the thing is – there are a LOT of dark places in this world – places where God’s light is so very needed – where God’s beloved children suffer and are dying under the weight of racism, sexism, heterosexism, violence, poverty, addiction, and illness. Where God’s creation groans under our abuse and neglect such that the animals of the earth, the birds of the air, and the creatures of the sea are suffering and dying too.
And to these Christ needs us to shine with the divine spark of our encounter with him here in the Eucharist – and be the mirror of his light. To be the person who, with the broken glass of a Nazi motorcycle, creates beauty, and builds a foundation for peace among those who are at war.
But there is one more thing too that we can learn about this story of Moses. He didn’t expect everyone to come to him. Notice, the text says that when he came down from the mountaintop shining as he did, folks were afraid to approach him. Moses called to them, invited them to abide with him. This is our calling too, but it will not be easy.
So many have been harmed by ones who claim to have encountered God’s presence, but then abuse the very creation of God out of their own arrogance, hate, and greed.
I remember when I was a chaplain at Montclair State University, and handing out care packages to students. They were often afraid to take one, fearing it came with baggage – with condemnation, guilt, or long speeches about needing to repent or go to church or some such thing. Good Lord, what has been done in the name of Jesus Christ is a sin for which the church must atone, amend, and act to change every single day.
Our lives as evangelists are about invitation, even when it seems difficult. Like Moses, we not only need to come off our mountains, but we need to invite others near and abide with them. Some will not accept the invitation – just as some students refused the care packages. But even if one person comes to experience the unconditional love and grace of God here in this thin place by our invitation, we will find that we are blessed. Not because we have done this wonderful thing, but we will be blessed by their presence among us, and by our willingness to be a mirror of God’s light.
And finally, about that mirror that Papaderos found. It wasn’t perfect, was it? No, it was broken. It had sharp edges. It wasn’t whole. Yet with a little love, the edges were softened, and it became a useful tool for sharing light.
We aren’t perfect. Heck, as I say often, if you are looking for perfect people, ya ain’t gonna find ‘em in church.
And you know what? Moses wasn’t perfect either, and he knew it too. Remember his whole bit with God about not being good enough to be God’s spokesperson to Pharoah.
Thankfully, God doesn’t need us to be perfect. Yet if we will enter into a relationship with God in our humble vulnerability, we will become the tools of God’s grace and love too.
For we know that we too are not the light or the source of light….but a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape we do not know. Nevertheless, with what we have, we also can reflect light into the dark places of the world…and change some things in some people. And perhaps others may see and do likewise.
And that, my friends, will make all the difference.
Amen.
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[1] Fulghum, 176-77, as noted on https://www.homileticsonline.com/members/search?keywords=light&bookId=&topicId=&searchType=6
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
August 6, 2023
The Feast of the Transfiguration
1st Reading – Exodus 34:29-35
2nd Reading – 2 Peter 1:13-21
Gospel – Luke 9:28-36
