J<\/em>esus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, \u201cRabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.\u201d He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, \u201cThis is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!\u201d Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. <\/em><\/p>\n As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. (Mark 9.2-9)<\/em><\/p>\n Septuagesima, Sexagesima, Quinquagesima: To Lutherans of a certain vintage, those words will bring back memories of the pre-Lenten Sundays\u2014a way that very serious Lutherans used to prepare for the preparation of Lent! Those words are a bit of a museum piece now, and they have dropped out of our vocabulary and out of our liturgical practice. Today, as we come to this last Sunday before the beginning of Lent, we are not yet into penitence and sackcloth. Quite the reverse. On this last Sunday after the Epiphany, we stand on the Mount of Transfiguration, and we behold the glory of Christ. It is a familiar passage, a story we hear every year at this time\u2014and yet it is one that never loses its strangeness. What was going on up on that mountain? What did it mean for Jesus? For the disciples? For us?<\/p>\n There are many dimensions to this story, but today I\u2019d like to focus on what is always my favorite part: the bungling confusion of Simon Peter. Here he is with Jesus on the mountain, he and James and John, and they see this incredible vision in which their friend, their rabbi, is transfigured\u2014changed before their eyes, into a glowing white glory that is meant to reveal him as God. For good measure, Moses and Elijah appear alongside him.<\/p>\n And what is Peter\u2019s response? \u201cRabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, one for Elijah\u201d\u2014and then Mark\u2019s very telling comment about Peter, \u201cHe did not know what to say, for they were terrified.\u201d He did not know what to say.<\/em> Oh, I love that verse! He did not know what to say.<\/em> Who hasn\u2019t been there? Who hasn\u2019t been in that place where you don\u2019t know what to say, and so you blurt out something that actually sounds really stupid!<\/p>\n When you don\u2019t know what to say \u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n Experience teaches us, you know, that when you don\u2019t know what to say, sometimes it\u2019s best just to be quiet. That\u2019s kind of what happens in the story, isn\u2019t it? Peter\u2019s silly remark is suddenly forgotten as a cloud overshadows them and the voice of God drowns out Peter\u2019s bungling remarks: \u201cThis is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!\u201d Listen to him! Listen to him! When you don\u2019t know what to say, it\u2019s probably better just to listen.<\/p>\n That\u2019s good advice in the real and practical world, but it\u2019s good advice in the spiritual life as well, and it would be worth pondering as we begin our Lenten journey together. Finding more time for silence is a worthy goal for anyone interested in a deeper relationship with God.<\/p>\n Sit and knit<\/strong><\/p>\n Archbishop Anthony Bloom tells a story about an elderly woman who came to see him shortly after he was ordained, seeking some advice about her prayer life. He felt inadequate for the task, but he listened to her and then suggested that perhaps she was talking so much that she didn’t give God a chance to get a word in. He suggested that she go to her room, put it in order, sit in her chair, look around for a moment, and then just knit for fifteen minutes before the face of God.<\/p>\n She didn’t think much of that advice; it didn’t seem very pious. But after a while, she tried it, and she came back and reported that this had really helped her. She began, she said, by liking the idea that she had fifteen minutes to do nothing without feeling guilty. She looked around and discovered what a pleasant place she lived in, and then she began to feel quiet and peaceful. Then she knit before the face of God.\u00a0 These are her words:<\/p>\n \u201cI became more and more aware of the silence. The needles hit the armrest of my chair, the clock was ticking peacefully, there was nothing to bother about, I had no need of straining myself. Then I perceived that this silence was not simply an absence of noise, but that the silence had substance. It was not absence of something but presence of something. The silence had a density, a richness, and it began to pervade me. \u2026 All of a sudden I perceived that the silence was a presence. At the heart of the silence there was He who is all stillness, all peace, all poise.\u201d [Anthony Bloom, Beginning to Pray <\/em>(Paulist Press, 1970), 92-94]<\/p>\n The silence is the presence<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cThe silence was a presence.\u201d And that presence, you see, is God. It is God, just being with us, loving us. We miss him when we are too busy in our praying! I think that’s what is in this story on the mountain, too. Peter didn\u2019t know what to say, but he didn\u2019t need to say anything. He needed to be quiet, to listen. The silence is the presence.<\/p>\n It\u2019s tough to find silence in our world. Sometimes when I am home alone I try to find silence, but it is almost impossible for me. The sound of the refrigerator, the noise of the furnace, even the unrelenting sound of distant traffic\u2014they all intrude. And, of course, the noise of my own heart is the loudest of all, as thoughts and concerns and musings just don\u2019t want to be still.<\/p>\n Perhaps \u201csilence\u201d is not quite the right word for what we need. After all, unless we\u2019re traveling in outer space or underwater, absolute silence is almost impossible to find. Maybe we could think instead of \u201cquiet.\u201d I may not be able to find complete silence\u2014that is something I cannot really control. But I can be quiet. I can, like the Psalmist in Psalm 131, \u201ccalm and quiet my soul.\u201d<\/p>\n Space for inner stillness<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0I need to find space for that inner stillness, and so do you. When you don\u2019t know what to say\u2014and especially when you don\u2019t know what to say to God, when your praying seems to be dry and you don\u2019t know how to find the words\u2014that\u2019s when you need to be still and listen. Could that be your goal doing Lent? Could it be to find time for stillness, time to listen to God?<\/p>\n There\u2019s another aspect of this, though, and one that struck me as I reflected on this passage. Mark tells us Peter didn\u2019t know what to say, but he also didn\u2019t know what to do. He blurts out these words, but what he really wants is an action plan. \u201cLet us make three dwellings . . .\u201d You see, when you confront something that you don\u2019t understand, or something that you fear, often the impulse is to do something. Remember Edith Bunker, on that old TV show, \u201cAll in the Family\u201d? When she\u2019d be talking with her husband Archie or her daughter Gloria and the conversation was getting a little uncomfortable, Edith\u2019s inevitable response was, \u201cLet me go make a nice cup of tea!\u201d Our human impulse is always to want to do<\/em> something. It\u2019s the Mary and Martha thing, isn\u2019t it? Mary is able just to sit quietly at Jesus\u2019 feet and listen, while Martha gets preoccupied with what must be done.<\/p>\n It\u2019s easier for most of us to be Martha rather than Mary. Truth be told, Martha is important, and what she does is important. Martha and Mary together represent the totality of the Christian life. There are things that must be done\u2014all those directives about serving the poor, loving the neighbor. But perhaps in this coming Lent, you might put those aside, just for a season, or just for some significant moments during the season. Just sit and be quiet. Listen. Enjoy the presence of God.<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n Pastor Richard O. Johnson<\/p>\n Webster, NY<\/p>\n roj@nccn.net<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Last Sunday after the Epiphany | February 11, 2024 | Mark 9.2-9 | Richard O. Johnson | Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. 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