I Love To Tell The Story
A Sermon for the Last Sunday after the Epiphany
February 19, 2023
The Rev. Robin Teasley
The Lord said to Moses, “Come up to me on the mountain, and wait there; and I will give you the tablets of stone, with the law and the commandment, which I have written for their instruction.” So Moses set out with his assistant Joshua, and Moses went up into the mountain of God. To the elders he had said, “Wait here for us, until we come to you again; for Aaron and Hur are with you; whoever has a dispute may go to them.” Then Moses went up on the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. The glory of the Lord settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days; on the seventh day he called to Moses out of the cloud. Now the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel. Moses entered the cloud, and went up on the mountain. Moses was on the mountain for forty days and forty nights. Exodus 24:12-18
Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” Matthew 17:1-9
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“I love to tell the story of unseen things above, of Jesus and his glory, of Jesus and his love.”
The hymn we just sang is familiar to many of us. Whenever I hear it I am transported back to my childhood, sitting in the Baptist Sunday school. The child-sized wooden tables and chairs squeak on the polished linoleum floor. The snack is juice and cookies – lemon thins to be exact, and I am surrounded by friends and teachers who love me. There is a felt board and the box of felt figures, just waiting for us to tell the story about Jesus for that day. It’s pretty amazing that a song can bring back so many memories.
Perhaps your memories are different when you hear this song, or maybe you don’t know this song. But we all have certain songs and stories that trigger our memories and our emotions. Maybe it was a favorite bedtime story each night, like The Velveteen Rabbit, or Goodnight Moon. Maybe it was that same old funny story your dad or your uncle always told at the dinner table. But no matter what, whenever you hear that song or story that has long been a part of you, a part of your life, you are immediately reminded of where you came from, of an event or a place or a person from the past. The stories we tell, have a way of shaping and connecting us. They become the foundation of our family and also of our faith community. They define us.
It is good to hear the stories. They remind us of what has gone before; the good times and also those times that taught us valuable and sometimes painful lessons. Since before we knew how to write them down, we have been passing down the stories that define us, so that they will be the words that lead our children and our children’s children through life. We’ve heard some of the remembered Immanuel stories in our focus point forums and have gained a better understanding of who we are in this parish and community.
You can see how this handing down of stories works in our readings for today. Notice the similarities in the passages from Exodus and Matthew. In both accounts there is a mountain and a cloud. In Exodus, we hear of the glory of God, while in Matthew, it’s the transfiguration of Jesus into a glorious, bright, dazzling sight.
When Moses and Elijah appear with Jesus in the gospel account, it’s déjà vu, because every child of Israel, including those three disciples on the foggy mountain top, knew the Exodus story. They knew it in the way we know the Lord’s Prayer, or the 23rd Psalm. They knew all the stories of Moses meeting God in the cloud on the mountain, and Moses leading the people out of Egypt, through the waters of the Red Sea, and in the wilderness wanderings for all those years.
So it’s no wonder that the disciples, raised on these stories, fell to the ground in awe, wonder, and fear when they saw Moses and Elijah there with Jesus, on a mountain, in a cloud. The stories that had been told to Peter, James, and John since they were old enough to understand them, rushed back to become reality before their eyes, and they too were becoming part of the story of God in that moment. The disciples were afraid at first, but Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.”
Reading this passage at our Vestry meeting this past Tuesday, the overwhelming reaction we had was that if we had been there, we’d have been scared to death! Someone commented that it’s as if God is always scaring us to death and then telling us not to be afraid. Then we talked about the way God often seems so scary in the Hebrew scriptures. But perhaps it’s not that God is scary, although we ought to have a healthy dose of reverence and awe for God’s power. Perhaps it is not God but life that can be scary and daunting and unexplainable.
We have no way to explain the devastation from war in Ukraine and earthquakes in Turkiye, and Syria. We have no more words for the almost daily mass shootings in our country. These things break our hearts. There are infinite geophysical, political, and scientific explanations for disastrous events that cause suffering, but explanations don't change the suffering. Sometimes it is just too complicated for us to reach an answer or solution. When we find ourselves in fearful times, the stories that remind us of God’s power, justice, and love can sustain us.
Just before and just following today’s Gospel reading, Jesus clearly tells his disciples that he will undergo suffering, be killed, and on the third day be raised. Of course there was no way the disciples could comprehend or explain that, and so they were afraid. It's human nature to fear what we do not know.
When we, like the disciples, find ourselves afraid when life does not go as planned, may we remember that Jesus was there, that Jesus touched them and told them not to be afraid. May we remember the stories we’ve heard told and retold. In hearing the stories of Jesus, we too are transfigured and become sons and daughters, God’s beloved, in whom God is well pleased. And whenever we fall, in fear or in failure, Jesus is there to reach out and lovingly pick us up again.
As a community of faith we are called to tell the stories of Jesus to one another. God says, “Listen to him!” and we do that as we worship, study, and serve together. We remain strong through the changes and chances of this life, only to the degree that we have a foundation of the stories of God that define who we are and whose we are. The stories become part of us, and can be drawn upon in all of life’s journeys, wildernesses, and mountaintop experiences.
We come down from the mountain and return to the world, but we hold onto the stories and speak them into our lives because they have power. We tell them around the dinner table, we recite them as creed and prayer, we sing them to bring joy and comfort. They shape us and transfigure us into the image of Christ.
What is your favorite story of Jesus and how does it strengthen you for the joys and challenges of your life? How does it transfigure you to become a part of the story of God?
“I love to tell the story of unseen things above, of Jesus and his glory, of Jesus and his love.”
Title Image: The Transfiguration, Macha Chmakoff
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