Homily: Last Sunday in Epiphany
February 27, 2022
ECOOS
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How does it feel to come face to face with God? All three of our lessons try to explain it to us today, but they all somehow feel like those great stories people tell . . .you know the ones . . .they always finish with, “I guess you had to be there?”
This is the third time in my priesthood that I have attended a Bishop’s Consecration on a Saturday, traveling a good distance to get there and back, and have still found myself obligated to write a homily for the next Sunday morning. It has never failed that life has been at its busiest, and that writing might have been undeniably easier had I not had to step away to be present as participant and witness. But it has also never failed that being there was worth every minute.
A lot of you streamed in to see the service, which is still on the Cathedral’s worship page,(how exciting is THAT?) and to be very truthful, I did it too, once I got home. I was behind a GIANT column, and both the pulpit and the center aisle were blocked from my view. I could tell something was happening because our dear friend The Rev. Mary Balfour Dunlap was practically leaning out into the aisle. I had absolutely no idea that our new Bishop was lying prostrate in the Crossing of the Cathedral as we sang the Litany. I had only her absorbed and intense body language to give me a clue of what was transpiring. You could definitely see it better than I could if you streamed from home. But I can try to share with you what it felt like to be there.
As we arranged ourselves to go into the Cathedral, the double line of clergy curved all the way from the Cathedral steps back to the corner of the portico. In the bright sunlight, there were red stoles ruffling in the wind against our billowing surplice sleeves. Because we were outside in the breeze, most masks were off at that point. It felt. . .almost normal. The Voorhees and Cathedral choirs positioned straight out against the Cathedral wall. Behind the clergy, the visiting bishops appeared, bright in their own copes if Co-Consecrators and blending with the clergy in Rochet and Chimere if not.
There were punctuation marks of purple zuchetti (the skull caps some bishops wear,) and more than a few Birettas on the heads of our more Anglo-Catholic priests. (I could never carry that off!). We were diverse in our gender, race, theological leanings and congregational assignments. It felt. . .beautiful.
It was amazing to be together, even all masked and identified with either vaccination cards or negative recent tests. The Cathedral was full and the choirs were splendid. The Sermon was on the longer side, but presenting a lot of Bishop Daniel’s spiritual autobiography from the perspective of an ordained ‘Mama’ for more than two decades. That felt . . .connective.
But when we sang Veni, Sancti Spiritu, in unison with soprano and tenor descants, the Holy Spirit spread goose bumps over so many of us who were present. As our neighboring bishop to the South, Bishop Ruth said afterward, “Oh Happy Day!” Perhaps also for you, but we who were there felt ourselves in the presence of something extraordinary, beautiful and holy. It is now a part of us.
That is what Peter was trying to grasp at the top of the mountain. Just like yesterday’s amazing service, with loud voices crying out in perfect unison, “that is our will,” and “We will,” Peter knew this moment was one to pause and appreciate. In the Cathedral, it felt as though we were standing outside of our very fractured world, in a place where unity and hope might truly exist. That felt like the Kingdom of God. Perhaps that is how it felt for our Disciples as well.
Matthew, Mark and Luke share a surprising number of the same details: Moses, Elijah and Jesus, with Jesus in dazzling white. And Peter, terrified, but trying to comprehend this moment and its possibilities, cries out in all three with these same words: “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. . .”
Those of us who streamed the service yesterday, and those of us who were together there, will never ever be able to transport back to that moment in that space. (We could watch it over and over again but it will not be the same!) At some level, leaving to go down the mountain is always just plain hard.
But I want you to remember two things about this. The first is that we do not go down the mountain alone. In Luke’s account, right after Peter blurts out his plan for mountaintop development, God answers in a way that Peter could never have imagined. “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” And just to clarify things, Moses and Elijah are definitely considered children of God. But the voice that envelopes Peter, James and John as Moses and Elijah disappear is absolutely talking about Jesus, because Moses and Elijah have left him. There is no confusion about the fact that Jesus remains to teach, guide and encourage, then and now.
The second thing I want you to remember is that we know the moment stays with the Disciples. ‘How?’ I hear you asking. ‘They never talk to anyone about it.’ Clearly, after the Crucifixion and Resurrection and Ascension, they did. How else would we know about it? The Transfiguration is important in the moment, but it is only after they understand the bigger picture that they get it. What they experience only matters in the context of the Resurrection; it makes an impression upon those who will tell the whole story going forward. All of this is of God’s design.
We have a new beginning with a new Bishop. We have shared in the moment of +Daniel’s Consecration, and have been given a renewed glimpse of the light of Christ. This is our story now too. We need to invite, share and teach what it feels like to come face to face with God. May this mountaintop experience sustain us as we learn and grow in His Grace.
Amen.
Photo credits Sharon Jones and Mary Balfour Dunlap
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