This week’s lectionary texts from the older and newer testaments which will be read and talked about by most churches around the world recall the Prophet Elijah’s ascent to heaven on a chariot of fire and Jesus’ transfiguration. Two weird, mystical accounts to draw our attention to the Greater Other to help us remember to keep first things first, seeking the Kingdom of God (attunement) above all else in everything we do. The view from the mountain above casts the vision for the valley below.
Epperly notes that “mysticism leads to mission, and mission always challenges the status quo with the vision of God’s new creation (91).” After witnessing Elijah’s ascension, Elisha was emboldened in his faith in God as were the disciples as they recalled the transfiguration. Their vision was refreshed, and with it came what Epperly describes as an “adventurous spirituality”:
Adventurous spirituality affirms that all are beloved and gifted to love and serve, and to be cherished and served. If God’s center is everywhere, as Bonaventure asserts, then every person is equally centered by God, regardless of gender, sexual identity, race and ethnicity, intelligence, age, or nation of origin. Our calling is to help our kin find their unique spiritual center as their unrepeatable gift to the world. God speaks in the voices of infants and elders, Europeans and Afghans, gay theologians, and heterosexual organists, [Americans] and Somalians, celibate priests and married parents (100-101).
The view from the mountain above casts the vision for the valley below.
There are serious implications inherent in such a vision of the world because the field of play is leveled for all people and creation itself. We are no longer afforded the myth of independence when everything in our actual experience affirms interdependence. Epperly continues:
What happens to refugee children, Ukrainian parents, right whale pups, and polar bears on ice caps matters to us because in the intricate interdependence of life, our joys and sorrows are one... In an interdependent world, the most pitiable—and dangerous—person and institution is the one that believes its well-being is isolated from the well-being of the community and the planet. Notions of “me first,” “congregation first,” and “nation first” ultimately go against our personal, congregational, national, and planetary well-being; they also go against the structure of God’s world, where individuality and community, solitude and relationship, cannot be separated. From this perspective, the inner and outer are one in the spiritual journey and the mystic’s experience. The church that prays is also the church that sacrifices and risks its own reputation to stand with the poor (101).
The view from the mountain above casts the vision for the valley below.
Martin Luther King, Jr., had been to the mountaintop, he had seen the Promised Land, casting the vision for his work in one of our nation’s darkest valleys (racism’s segregation and voting rights violations). What’s your personal valley? What are some of the larger valleys that you feel passionate about? How does the view from the mountain cast the vision for those valleys below?
A “fresh church” is a community of faithful, adventurous visionaries captivated and compelled by the love of God for all creation which constantly competes with other visions vying for our allegiance. The question for those who desire to be faithful is simply, which vision will we allow to most captivate, inform, and compel us forward?
FRESH PRAYER Open my senses to the world’s suffering. Open my heart to God’s pain in the pain of the world. Open my hands to give selfless and generous service. Open my tongue that I might speak to everyone as if they were an angel, addressing them with respect and compassion. Let me see you, O Jesus, in all creatures, and act always to bring beauty to your life and the world. Amen (105-106).
All quotes, unless otherwise noted, are from Bruce Epperly’s book, Simplicity, Spirituality, Service: The Timeless Wisdom of Francis, Clare, and Bonaventure. Franciscan Media. Kindle Edition.
2 Kings 2:1-14 MSG
Just before GOD took Elijah to heaven in a whirlwind, Elijah and Elisha were on a walk out of Gilgal. Elijah said to Elisha, "Stay here. GOD has sent me on an errand to Bethel."
Elisha said, "Not on your life! I'm not letting you out of my sight!" So they both went to Bethel.
The guild of prophets at Bethel met Elisha and said, "Did you know that GOD is going to take your master away from you today?"
"Yes," he said, "I know it. But keep it quiet."
Then Elijah said to Elisha, "Stay here. GOD has sent me on an errand to Jericho."
Elisha said, "Not on your life! I'm not letting you out of my sight!" So they both went to Jericho.
The guild of prophets at Jericho came to Elisha and said, "Did you know that GOD is going to take your master away from you today?"
"Yes," he said, "I know it. But keep it quiet."
Then Elijah said to Elisha, "Stay here. GOD has sent me on an errand to the Jordan."
Elisha said, "Not on your life! I'm not letting you out of my sight!" And so the two of them went their way together.
Meanwhile, fifty men from the guild of prophets gathered some distance away while the two of them stood at the Jordan.
Elijah took his cloak, rolled it up, and hit the water with it. The river divided and the two men walked through on dry land.
When they reached the other side, Elijah said to Elisha, "What can I do for you before I'm taken from you? Ask anything."
Elisha said, "Your life repeated in my life. I want to be a holy man just like you."
"That's a hard one!" said Elijah. "But if you're watching when I'm taken from you, you'll get what you've asked for. But only if you're watching."
And so it happened. They were walking along and talking. Suddenly a chariot and horses of fire came between them and Elijah went up in a whirlwind to heaven. Elisha saw it all and shouted, "My father, my father! You—the chariot and cavalry of Israel!" When he could no longer see anything, he grabbed his robe and ripped it to pieces. Then he picked up Elijah's cloak that had fallen from him, returned to the shore of the Jordan, and stood there. He took Elijah's cloak—all that was left of Elijah!—and hit the river with it, saying, "Now where is the GOD of Elijah? Where is he?"
When he struck the water, the river divided and Elisha walked through.
Mark 9:2-9 MSG
Jesus took Peter, James, and John and led them up a high mountain. His appearance changed from the inside out, right before their eyes. His clothes shimmered, glistening white, whiter than any bleach could make them. Elijah, along with Moses, came into view, in deep conversation with Jesus.
Peter interrupted, "Rabbi, this is a great moment! Let's build three memorials—one for you, one for Moses, one for Elijah." He blurted this out without thinking, stunned as they all were by what they were seeing.
Just then a light-radiant cloud enveloped them, and from deep in the cloud, a voice: "This is my Son, marked by my love. Listen to him."
The next minute the disciples were looking around, rubbing their eyes, seeing nothing but Jesus, only Jesus.
Coming down the mountain, Jesus swore them to secrecy. "Don't tell a soul what you saw. After the Son of Man rises from the dead, you're free to talk."
Commentary from the Salt Project
Epiphany 6 (Year B): Mark 9:1-10 and 2 Kings 2:1-12
Big Picture:
1) This is the last week of the Season of Epiphany. For Mark, the Transfiguration is in many ways the mother of all epiphany stories (as you know, “epiphany” means “showing forth”), since it reveals Jesus as a prophet par excellence, and above all, as God’s Beloved Child (9:7).
2) The episode takes place at almost the exact midpoint of Mark’s Gospel, as well as its highest geographical elevation (the reference to Caesarea Philippi in 8:27 suggests that this mountain is likely Mount Hermon, the highest peak in Syro-Palestine — and the same one referenced in Psalm 133, where “dwelling together in unity” is compared to the lovely “dew of Hermon”). In broad strokes, the first eight chapters of Mark describe Jesus’ ascent, his ministry of healing and liberation, and the last eight chapters describe the descent into his passion and death, arriving finally at the stunning news of his empty tomb. The Transfiguration stands as the fulcrum, a high point and pivot point between these two great sections of Jesus’ journey.
3) In the verses just before this passage, Jesus articulates what is arguably his most disturbing, difficult teaching of all (we’ll tackle it head-on in a couple of weeks): that he must suffer, die, and rise again, and that anyone who wishes to follow him must “deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow me” (8:34). The disciples are understandably bewildered by these ideas, and Peter even argues with Jesus, rebuking him and refusing to believe. The Transfiguration’s brilliant light, then, acts as a kind of reassurance for the disciples (including us!). It’s as if Mark is saying: We’re now making the turn toward Golgotha, and that means descending into the valley of the shadow of death. But fear not! Keep this astonishing, mysterious mountaintop story in mind as we go. Carry it like a torch, for it can help show the way — not least because it gives us a glimpse of where all this is headed...
4) Along with 1 & 2 Samuel, 1 & 2 Kings recount the saga of Israel’s monarchies, and this week's passage from 2 Kings is the story of a gifted prophet (Elijah) passing the baton to his protégé (Elisha). This passage helpfully features Elijah, of course, who in Mark appears on the mountaintop with Jesus; but it also provides a portrait of ancient Israel’s prevailing model of prophetic succession. Elisha does not surpass or supersede Elijah, but rather follows in his footsteps, quite literally picking up Elijah’s “mantle” (his cloak), carrying on his mentor's mission (2:13). As we’ll see, Mark picks up on this basic pattern.
5) By Mark’s day, many Jews considered Elijah to be an eschatological figure whose return would signal the imminent end of the age (see, for example, Malachi 4:5-6). The fascination with Elijah was no doubt partly due to this story in 2 Kings of his being swirled up directly into heaven at the end of his life, avoiding the sting of death itself — a turn of events taken as a vivid sign of his holiness and devotion.
Scripture:
1) Mark 9:1 continues Jesus’ comments in the last verses of Chapter 8, essentially underscoring them with a sense of urgency; in 9:2, the story’s new episode begins. (The numerical chapters and verses were added centuries after Mark was written — and they’re not always precisely on target!)
2) The conspicuous timestamp — “Six days later” — is likely an allusion to the “six days” Moses spends in the cloud atop Mount Sinai before God calls out to him (Exodus 24:15-16). Likewise, the shining garments recall Moses’ radiance when he descended from Sinai (Exodus 34:29-35), and at the same time anticipate the angel’s white robe in the empty tomb to come (Mark 16:5). Finally, the story's cloud and divine voice evoke the portrait of God's presence in Exodus 24. In this way, Mark casts this mountaintop encounter with God in terms of Israel’s classic paradigm, thus positioning his gospel within the broad sweep of salvation history.
3) What happens up there? It’s beyond explanation, of course, but at its heart it’s a vision of that mysterious heavenly realm, and indeed of the world to come. Time and space seem to collapse; the world somehow becomes incandescent; and Jesus is suddenly seen engaging Israel’s two most prestigious prophets in collegial conversation. The disciples are understandably overwhelmed and afraid, and Peter (never at a loss for words!) stammers a suggestion: Shall we build you three tents? It's a bumbling, endearing proposal, if a bit tone-deaf and presumptuous (after all, if these three great prophets wanted shelter, they likely would have already made arrangements!). Is Peter thinking of the Greek custom of building a shrine at the site of a god’s appearance? Is he trying to corral the astounding wonder into something more manageable, more domesticated? Or is he simply “terrified” (9:6), grasping for something to say, something to offer?
4) Emanating from a cloud, God’s voice reprises the message at Jesus’ baptism (Mark 1:11). It may be that only Jesus hears the voice in that earlier scene (for there God says, “You are my Son...”), whereas here the announcement is addressed to all who have ears to hear (“This is my Son…”). At any rate, Jesus nevertheless orders his three disciples to keep his identity a secret until after he has “risen from the dead.” For Mark, true messiahship comes not with trumpets and chariots, but rather in the deeply hidden form of a suffering servant; accordingly, it must be concealed until the resurrection, the ultimate Epiphany. It won’t be long now, Mark insists. The end of the age is at hand; Elijah has come in the form of John the Baptist (see Jesus’ oblique comment in 9:13); and now the Child of Humanity, God’s Beloved, turns toward Jerusalem.
5) Most Jews in Mark’s day would have been familiar with the concept of resurrection at the end of the age, but it was typically thought of as a communal, general resurrection of all God’s people. Mark’s view seems to be that Jesus will rise as a kind of harbinger, a reassuring “first fruits” of that wider resurrection to come (compare Paul’s version of this idea in 1 Corinthians 15:20).
6) The Transfiguration ends as abruptly as it began. The two former prophets suddenly vanish, and the disciples find themselves with Jesus alone. Mark’s message here isn’t that Jesus somehow eclipses or supersedes Moses and Elijah, but rather that he stands in profound kinship and continuity with them, both carrying on and culminating their work. In other words, Jesus succeeds them — and just as Elisha’s succession of Elijah involves not a demotion but rather an exaltation of the elder figure, so too with Jesus. Mark honors Moses and Elijah in this story, even as Jesus steps forward as God’s Beloved, the One to whom his disciples must listen.
Takeaways:
1) In the context of the overall narrative, Mark’s central point in the Transfiguration story is this: the suffering and death of Jesus may at first appear as an unthinkable, desecrating defeat, but it’s actually a step toward a dramatic, subversive victory. Jesus will now venture into the shadows of death — precisely in order to scatter those shadows once and for all, overcoming them in the end with shimmering light. Jesus will go down into the depths of what can only be called godforsaken — precisely in order to lift the world up into renewed intimacy with God, the sort of intimacy familiar to Moses (the one who “knew God face to face” (Deut 34:10) and even “mouth to mouth” (Num 12:8)), familiar to Elijah (the one who heard God in “the sound of sheer silence” (1 Kings 19:12)), and familiar to Jesus, God’s beloved child. So take heart! And “listen to him” — that is, continue to trust and walk with Jesus, following in his footsteps and taking up his mantle, even though the path ahead now seems strewn with danger and disgrace. Radiant beauty awaits — on the other side of Golgotha.
2) Think of this passage itself as a “high mountain” at the center of Mark’s Gospel. On one side, we climb up through stories of Jesus’ healing, liberating ministry. And on the other side, we’ll descend to the cross. Today, we arrive at a clearing on the mountaintop — and from here we can survey both how far we’ve come and the Lenten journey ahead.
3) Epiphany concludes today: Jesus has "shown forth" to be a healer and a liberator; a teacher and a shining prophet. The “unclean spirit” has called him “the Holy One of God;” Peter has called him “the Messiah” (Mark 8:29). But most fundamentally and decisively, he is God’s beloved child. His path of love will lead down into the valley, through the dry cinders of Ash Wednesday and the tears of the Via Dolorosa, the Way of Sorrow, all the way to Easter Sunday and the Way of Life. Here atop Mount Hermon, we can survey the 40 days ahead, take a deep breath — and remember that the journey through ashes and sorrow is never for its own sake. It's for the sake of what comes next. In a word, it's for the sake of transfiguration: a radiant new life and a dazzling new world.