Sermon for the *Great* Feast of the Transfiguration

 

Sermon. 6 August 2023.

The Feast of the Transfiguration

Luke 9:28-36

 

[On the day I preached without notes, but the sermon followed this form.]

 

Today is a day of great poignancy for me. I truly hope that it is not the last time we meet, nor that it is the last time I serve you by leading worship in some capacity. But what today is is the last time I will be rota-ed to serve you according to the pattern we have had. I will be moving much nearer to my place of work.

 

One of the things I have done as your preacher, at least at times, is seek to question some of the classical or settled or predictable or well-worn interpretations of Bible passages. Most obviously, I have done this by drawing things out from the original languages. It occurs to me that, in the world, one word for this challenge is that I have been something of an “iconoclast”. That’s ironic however, as one thing I am not is an iconoclast, a destroyer of icons. I worship with icons and cannot imagine worshipping consistently without icons. I am then, the opposite of an iconoclast, which is (as you’ll remember) an iconodule. I am also perfectly orthodox, by the way. I’d want to affirm that it is possible to be utterly orthodox, and still find Bible passages stranger than they are normally presented as being.

 

And today is the Feast of the Transfiguration, the mountain top experience enjoyed by Peter, James, and John, when they see Jesus lit up with a brightness beyond description, and are told to listen to him. I am, you will have guessed, going to be true to form, and question some of the standard statements that preachers up and down the country will be bringing, right now.

 

First, I raise this question: Who was changed? Who was changed in this meeting. At the surface level, this is easy, as the text plainly says “while [Jesus] was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.” So the change happens to Jesus. But! But this might just be from the perspective of the disciples. At a deeper level, it may be that the disciples were changed. Their eyes were strengthened to see Jesus as he already and always was. The argument here is that the brightness they saw was the brightness of Divinity, for Jesus was always fully Gd as Gd is Gd, as well as fully human as humans are humans. This position is common among Eastern Orthodox Christians. The Orthodox insist that Gd is personal, is Person, and also insist that Gd is Light, is uncreated Light, Light like no other. So the disciples were given the gift of seeing fully the Light that was there.

 

My next question: Jesus is accompanied, at least for a while, by Moses and by Elijah. Why these two? Here, if ever, there is a standard answer: Moses represents the Law, or the whole Teaching of Sinai; Elijah represents the Prophets. This has a core plausibility to it, as one way of describing the Scriptures of Jesus’ day was as “the Law/Torah and the Prophets”. But! But I am not convinced. There is no tradition of Elijah “standing for” the Prophets, before this story. So it would not be self-evident. And Elijah is not a typical Prophet. He might be said to be more a wonderworker. The first person in the Bible to be called a prophet is Abraham. The first prophet who appears in the Prophetic corpus is Samuel. The greatest Prophet who wrote a book – greatest in terms of size and in terms of importance - is Isaiah. Surely a Samuel or an Isaiah would have a better claim to “stand for” the Prophets?

 

In fact, there are other reasons why it is precisely Moses and Elijah who appear here. It is that they are both already known in the Scriptures as the Shining Ones.

 

You may remember that when Moses ascends Mount Sinai to speak with Gd as a friend speaks to a friend, his face shines (Ex 34:29ff). He doesn’t realise it, but the Israelites are in awe of the sight, so much so that Moses wears a veil over his face when speaking to them. Elijah, you may also remember, ascends into heaven, on what? A chariot of fire (2 Kings 2:9ff). And Elisha his disciple cries out with awe himself: “Father, father! The chariots of Israel and their horses!” Such brightness! So surely it makes sense if, alongside the uncreated Light of Jesus as Gd, the disciples see the reflected glory already associated with Moses, and with Elijah. Maybe they don’t “stand for” anything in the story, other than the manifold glory of Gd in the world.

 

My third question is not a detail within the story, but involves taking a step back. It is: Do we really make enough of the Feast? We are marking it on a Sunday, but that is coincidence only. Next year it will fall on a Tuesday, and will be only a lesser festival. Optional, in other words. I think, however, that it is a great Feast of the Lord. Not as important as Easter or Christmas, but arguably in the rank below that.

 

I say this because “Transfiguration” (once we see what it means, and it is no longer jargon) is a good way of describing the difference Jesus makes. I know we are used to thinking of Jesus as fulfilling the prophecies and promises of the Old Testament (the Hebrew Bible). There is certainly a place for that kind of language. But, it’s complicated. The promises and prophecies of the Hebrew Bible grow in scope as the story continues. And by the time we get to Isaiah, then certainly we are led to look forward to a world put right. A world where there is peace with justice with freedom with forgiveness with feasting. And all this is for all. That little tiny Israel enjoys these things can only mean the world is healed. Gd lives with humankind. This is not my hyperbole. It is what the promise is.

 

And (I am sorry if this shocks you)… we are not there yet. That’s not the world we live in. It didn’t come about with Jesus’ birth, or his death, or his resurrection, or with the founding of the Church at Pentecost, or with any Church movement since then. So we find we have to speak about Jesus as “the beginning of the fulfilment”, and that’s rather a different idea. So, other language to set alongside that of fulfilment is indeed… Transfiguration.

 

Jesus does not solve the problems of the world by his very presence. But he can and does transfigure lives. With Jesus, your life can know a radiance which can make all the difference. I did sow the seed of this thought with prisoners in this last week. Prisoners said of course it often does not feel like that. I agreed. In truth, for all of us, it often does not feel like that. But I think we all can have intimations of the brightness with which Jesus enlightens us and the world. And we can trust those intimations. We try them out for size, and we find they enable us to live more fully.

 

It may be that in saying this I am pushing at an open door. After all, let us all look East. Your stained glass window [of the Transfiguration] tells the story so powerfully. With Peter, we can say: “it is good for us to be here”. Certainly I say it, here and now. It has been good for me to be here. It is good for me to be here. The radiance of Christ is and has been present in this place, and not only in the stained glass. I thank you for your fellowship, fellowship which transfigures.

 

Amen.

Hearing a Still Small Voice?

Sermon. 9 August 2020, St Michael and All Angels. Little Ilford

Trinity 9

 

1 Kings 19.9-18

Matthew 14.22-33

A reminder that on Sundays the first reading is chosen with the gospel reading in mind.[1] That doesn’t mean that the story from the Old Testament or Hebrew Bible is one that is fulfilled in the gospel. It is not the prototype or model or promise that only becomes fully itself in the gospel reading. That’s an oversimplification, at best. But the first reading does anticipate, or echo, or mirror, or deepen, or augment or enrich the Gospel reading.

 

You can think of the first reading and the gospel as being he “book ends” of the theme of the day.

 

That said, we are never told by the people that came up with our order of readings what the theme of the day is. Sometimes we have to work at it. Sometimes there is quite a string of themes to choose from. And there’s nothing wrong with that. If we see whole range of links between the first reading and the gospel, rejoice! [BSL: Alleluia, indeed.]

 

What links are suggested for us today? Feel free to have a think, and even have a look.

*

 

In the first reading, Elijah has a dramatic encounter with Gd, and comes to a new understanding. In the gospel, the disciples (and especially Peter) have a dramatic encounter with Jesus, and come to a new understanding.

 

Another link, harder to spot… mountains. Elijah is alone at Horeb, the mountain of Gd. And Jesus himself spends a fair bit of the night, alone, on a mountain (though that’s easy to overlook). So really there’s a whole other encounter with Gd, right there: Jesus enjoying time and recuperation and solitude with his Heavenly Father. We know this was his habit, and it can be ours.

 

Perhaps the most obvious link is… let’s say “extremes of forces of nature”. (That feels better than saying they all have “wind” in common.) Elijah experiences wind, earthquake and fire. The disciples experience a bad storm, pushing their boat well off course.

 

And all of these forces of nature come to a dramatic end. So indeed, yet another link is calm. Elijah and the disciples experience calm after extremes, a calm willed by Gd. I for one take great comfort in that and I invite you to, too. Gd wills calm, calm for us.

 

How did Elijah experience calm, the calm that gave him his encounter with Gd? Our reading today refers to “a sound of sheer silence”. But many of us will be familiar with the older translation (all the way back to King James): “a still small voice”. If you look at the plethora of modern English translations you will find a great variation of expressions. So let us look at the Hebrew.

 

The Hebrew is qol demamah daqqah. Just those three words. Qol demamah daqqah.

 

Qol means both “sound” and “voice”. This gives us our first problem as translators. Did Elijah first hear just a sound, or was that already the voice of Gd, about to question Elijah? I am afraid the text refuses to tell us.

 

Damamah comes from d.m.m, which means “to be silent, dumb, or still, or to become silent, dumb or still”. So it can mean both “be quiet (moderate your tone)” or “shut up”. So this gives us our second problem. Are we talking about a quiet sound or a quiet voice – in other words, a whisper – or about “the sound of silence”? The text refuses to tell us.

 

Daqqah comes from the verb d.q.q. which means to crush, thresh or to be crushed, be fine. That gives us our third problem. Are we talking about something unique – a sound that is crushed – or something common-or-garden - a thin/faint sound?  The text, you will have realised, refuses to tell us.

 

So three unexceptional Hebrew words, but they yield radically different translations, depending solely on the choices the translator makes.

 

We might have the dramatic and paradoxical:

“a sound crushed to silence”

or we might have something perfectly natural:

“a soft murmuring sound” [NJPS].

Some even see the underlying meaning to be:

“a soft gentle breeze”.

Chief Rabbi Emeritus Jonathan Sacks has suggested it means:

a sound you only hear if you’re listening out for it.

 

It’s difficult. But then, this is about Elijah, and with Elijah, things are difficult. If I ask you to think of an “Old Testament Prophet”, I’d be willing to bet you think of Elijah.

Fierce.

Uncompromising.

Challenger of rulers.

Ridiculer of false prophets, prophets of Ba’al.

He’s wonder-worker and…

threat.

Elijah is a threat to the status quo,

and the powers-that-be set out to kill him.

And by the way, for all this experience with Gd, and Gd’s whisper (or whatsoever it was), that encounter does not change much if anything for Elijah. He goes on being a troubler of Israel, meddling in the affairs of state.

 

*

 

A soft gentle breeze.

A quiet whisper.

A sound crushed to silence.

We can defend all these translations.

But probably most of us will think most naturally of

“a still small voice”,

and I say there’s nothing wrong in that.

 

A “still small voice” is something many of us can relate to.

We are mostly Elijahs.

 

We meet with Gd not in the great dramas of wind, earthquake or fire.

We don’t go through life with a pillar of fire in front of us, directing us, taking away all dilemmas.

We don’t regularly hear a Commanding Voice, commanding us.

But we do know - or maybe just intimate - that

if we pray,

and if in prayer we can become still,

and if we can stay in the calm,

then a still small voice may well speak, and may well

at least from time to time

nudge us in one direction more than another.

 

I have said that Elijah’s encounter with the whisper of Gd did not change who he was or how he lived. It might be truer to say it didn’t change him at the time. Why do I say this?

 

Well, remember that Elijah, rather than dying a natural death, ascends into heaven. So it became natural to think of Elijah as one who will return at the end of days, when the messianic kingdom comes. We know this from the New Testament, but it’s already found in the Old Testament.

 

The Prophet Malachi [Mal 4.5f] tells us that Elijah will come “before the great and terrible day of the LORD” and…

do what?

It may well not be what you think.

What Elijah does before the great and terrible day of the LORD is…

“turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents”.

 

Yes, the great fiery, feisty, fearsome one, Elijah, becomes the great reconciler, the one who can bring about healing from estrangement, indeed, healing from the most painful estrangements of all, those within a family.

 

So if we are to live in the spirit of Elijah, we mustn’t oversimplify things. It may indeed mean telling the powers-that-be that they are wrong, very wrong, and stand under the judgement of Gd. (We will continue to have to do this, in our days.) And it may also be that we have to do unseen acts of reconciliation, simple gestures of kindness, that themselves make kindness possible.

 

Which, when?

I cannot tell you.

But there is – and you already know it – a calm, and a still small voice, which can.

Amen.  

---

[1] The Church of England also allows for a different pattern in the Ordinary Time after Trinity. It is possible to read various Old Testament books through, “continuously” (although it’s only edited highlights). This is the same as with the Second Reading, from the New Testament. But this Church has never – as yet – taken that route.

Loaves, Fishes, Hope

Sermon. 26 July 2015. Trinity 8/Proper 12. St Michael and All Angels, Little Ilford

2 Kings 4.42-44

John 6.1-21

Brothers and sisters, I was going to tease you, and pretend that I thought that you must be in shock – in shock by the fact that although we are in Year B, or the year of Mark, and there's no particular festival to complicate things, yet today's gospel comes from John. Of course, you are not in shock and have no reason to be. One of the things that happens in all three years is that John does get a look in at different points.

But I still think it may be significant that it's precisely now, this week, that we switch over to John. In Mark's gospel, we were due to hear of the feeding of the five thousand, and so it is now that we instead hear that same story from John.

'So what?' you may say. Well, we preachers probably don't say this as often as we should: until we get to events around the Last Supper and the Cross and Resurrection, there are actually very few stories which are found in all four gospels. Most people find three, or at most four. So that the double story of the feeding of the five thousand and the walking on the water are together found in all four gospels (and that there are two miraculous feeding stories each in Matthew and Mark) must mean that all gospel-writers thought this: you could not truthfully tell the story of Jesus without telling how he wonderfully fed others.

Let me ask two questions. First, how many people did Jesus feed? 5000? Well, as you have the English before you, it does indeed look like there were 5000 persons. Jesus says: 'Make the people sit down', using the word anthropos, meaning a person, of either gender. But the Greek – not the English but the Greek – tells us that there were around 5000 andres – or men, male persons there. So there may have been another 5000 women and at least that number of children, as indeed the other gospels imply.

Second, what actually happened? Actually that is a rhetorical question, and you are right not to answer. The simple truth is that we are not going to work out what actually happened. We have no way of getting back behind the story to the history. Some would stress that what happened was a miracle from heaven at Jesus' divine hands. Yes, but the obvious problem with stressing that Jesus was the Son of Gd because of his miracles is that the sceptic can reply: 'how do you know he wasn't just a good magician?' And there's no one knock-down answer to that question (and note it doesn't really matter what you think magic is, whether some mysterious power or tricks of misdirected attention). If we place our trust in Jesus, we do so because of his character, and not from wonder-working incidents in isolation.

Others, then, speak instead of 'the miracle of generosity'. The miracle is that the boy was able and willing to share his few morsels of food. This in turn – so the interpretation goes – made others be honest about the fact that they had food secretly stored about their own person which could be shared. And so it turned out that there was plenty of food all along. The problems with this include that, if the message were truly one about having the courage to be generous, why is that never mentioned in any of the accounts of this story? And, beyond that, how to explain the superabundance of leftovers?

We cannot get behind the gospel accounts to the so-called historical facts. But, in truth, if we tried to, we'd lose more than we gain. For John (like Matthew, Mark and Luke of course) crafts the details of the story as he has them into a narrative that is rich and deep. And it's especially rich and deep with resonances with the earlier story of faith, the Hebrew story, which comes to us in the book we call the 'Old Testament'.

And so another question (my last): Who are the people in the Hebrew Bible through whom Gd provides food miraculously? There are three obvious ones (there may be others). Gd feeds through Moses, through Elijah and Elisha. You were given the biggest hint about Elisha, of course – as there he is, acting as Gd's agent, in our First Reading. Moses also famously guides the people to the bread of Manna in the wilderness. And through Elijah's presence the widow of Zarephath finds that her meal and oil do not run out. To people who knew those stories like the back of their proverbial hand, today's gospel is full of echoes. Some details:

1. Jesus goes up a high mountain. Both Moses and Elijah did this, and discerned the will of Gd from the top of it.
2. Passover is near. Passover consists of a festival meal, and a retelling of the story of freedom, from slavery to freedom, and from the bread of affliction, to the manna of miracle in the wilderness.
3. That the loaves are barley loaves reinforces this point – as Passover is also the barley harvest festival. And it equally reminds us of the miracle at Elisha's hands, as in the First Reading.
4. That the disciples are doubtful and complain that the provisions are pitifully small is also an echo of what Elisha faced from those around him (and may also be resonant of the People of Israel murmuring in the wilderness).
5. That nothing of the food is lost is a reminder of the Manna in the wilderness, where, however much a person gathered, they always had just enough. When Jesus in John goes on to speak about this wonderful feeding, he refers to Moses and the Manna explicitly.
6. That said, that there is some (actually a great abundance left over) might differently remind us of the Manna too (where there had to be a double portion each Friday, so that the people did not have to gather on Shabbat) and of Elisha, as we have heard.
7. Actually, even the story of Jesus' walking in the water echoes what Elisha did soon after Elisha's own miracle with the food – someone drops their axe deep into a river; Elisha makes it float to the surface, and be recoverable.

Now, if you remember what I was saying about prophets a couple of weeks ago, you will remember that not only Elijah and Elisha but Moses too are all prophets, and that Moses prophesied that Gd was raise up a prophet like him. So it isn't too much of a surprise that the well-fed people think that Jesus is precisely that prophet, the Prophet of the End Times, and so want to make him King. (Why and how a prophet can also be a king is something we'll leave for another time.) For Jesus does all that Moses, Elijah and Elisha did, but exceeds their actions. This is seen supremely in the twelve baskets of leftovers. Whether they symbolise the twelve apostles, and so the new community, or the twelve tribes, and so the original community of faith, the point is the same: here is abundance, new abundance, an abundance before now unimaginable.

Much more can be said, but I doubt if the core message would need to change, or would be changeable. For that core surely says that Jesus feeds us, nourishes us, gives us - and is - the bread from heaven, the Manna, the food for our strengthening and healing. But! But woe betide us if we seek to grasp hold of Jesus and try to make him fit into our story of the way things should be.

And there is one more thing. If you visit the Holy Land, you can go to a traditional site for the wonderful feeding of the multitude. It is called Tabgha in Arabic or Ein Sheva in Hebrew. There is a Benedictine Church, known as the Church of the Multiplication (of the Loaves) with a distinctive mosaic.

I am pained to report that it was torched and vandalised in June of his year. The criminals who attacked it left some graffiti, and it pains me even more to say that that graffiti quoted a prayer against idolatry from the Jewish prayer book. (I am afraid that I am bit proud that I could actually make out what they wrote: ve-ha-elilim karot yikkaretun' - 'and the idols shall surely be cut off'.) They were claiming their violence was in the name of faith. But, thanks be to Gd, the story does not end there. The government and other Jewish leaders condemned the attack. But some Orthodox rabbis have gone further. They have explicitly said that this act of violence so contradicts Judaism that Jews must raise funds for the restoration of this Church and they are doing so.

So out of the destruction comes a new hope, and a new hope for Jewish-Christian reconciliation (and let us in turn hope for Jewish-Christian-Muslim reconciliation) in the place where it is likely to prove hardest, in Israel-Palestine itself. This act of good will is not of course as dramatic as the original miracle. But it may be that the cumulative weight of such minor miracles, about which most people will never hear a thing, is what will feed us all, as we make our way, care-fully but also hopefully, in this needy, hungry world of ours. Amen.