Matthew 17: 1-9

TRY SOFTER

A brilliant magician was performing on an ocean liner. But every time he did a trick, the Captain’s parrot would yell, “It’s a trick. He’s a phony. That’s not magic.”

Then one evening during a storm, the ship sank while the magician was performing. The parrot and the magician ended up in the same lifeboat. For several hours they just glared at each other, neither saying a word to the other.

Finally the parrot said, “OK, I give up. What did you do with the ship?”

The parrot couldn’t explain that last trick! It was too much to comprehend, even for a smart parrot.

The apostle Peter often had the same problem.  What occurred in our scripture text this morning – we call the Transfiguration – is one such example. It was an event, an almost indescribable event that Christian writers would, ever after, fumble to describe. 

Here’s what happened.  Some pilgrims from Galilee had camped a few miles east of Nazareth.  It was very early in the morning.  The sun had not yet crested Mt. Tabor. 

The men and young children were still asleep in their family tents.  The women and children old enough to help were preparing a simple meal to break their families’ fasts. 

A few glanced over at the fishermen’s tents.  They were already empty.  A child had watched them leave an hour earlier in the direction of the mountain. 

Four of them climbed Mt. Tabor that morning.  They were young and lean and the climb did not leave them breathless.  One walked ahead in silent meditation; the others followed in silent respect.  After two hours they reached the summit and sat in more silence. 

But after a while the three fishermen, Peter, James, and John, began to fidget.  They were used to hard work.  They still weren’t used to quiet contemplation. 

Peter noted the wind; a good day to be out on the water.  He swatted a fly that had landed on his arm.  He thought of his former neighbors who would by now be setting back to shore from the Sea of Galilee to the east.  

 Suddenly a bright light engulfed them.  The three fishermen leaped to their feet.  Their rabbi, Jesus, was ablaze with light. 

And along with Jesus, two great men -- long dead -- suddenly appeared to them.  One was Moses, who had stood up to Pharaoh and led the Israelites out of Egyptian slavery.  The other was Elijah, who had stood up to the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel. 

These were two of the greatest people in Israel’s history.  To see them in the flesh was like having George Washington and Abraham Lincoln suddenly come to life in your presence. 

And then Jesus’ face began to shine -- bright as the sun -- and his clothes became dazzling white. 

It was obvious that God was in their midst. Who else could do such a thing?

Peter could have responded in many ways.  He could have knelt down and said, “This is holy ground.” 

He could have said, “Thank you, Jesus, for bringing me to this place.” 

Or he could have kept his mouth shut and enjoyed the moment.

But Peter wasn’t very good at keeping his mouth shut.  Whatever happened, you could pretty well count on Peter saying something and doing something.  Peter was a little bit like the Energizer Bunny -- always in motion.

What Peter blurted out at the moment was:  “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will set up three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 

The Hebrews had always believed God preferred the stillness of the desert or the height of a mountain over the noise of a city temple. 

Still, Peter didn’t think this through before he blurted out what he said.  It was just the first thing he thought of. 

 I mean where was he going to get the tents?  I doubt they carried them around with them … and I don’t think there was a Home Depot on top of the mountain! Ah, but I digress.

Suddenly a cloud of greater light descended over them all.  Peter couldn’t see anyone anymore.  From the center of the cloud a voice said, “This is my son, who I love, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him.” 

Now that was a truly graceful moment.  God could have said, “Peter, will you be quiet, you talk too much!”  

Jesus could have said, “That’s a really lame idea, Peter.” 

But nobody said an unkind word.  God simply said: “This is my Son, who I love; with whom I am well pleased; listen to him!”

Peter trembled where he’d fallen.  These were the very words Jesus said he’d heard at his baptism. 

Peter gasped and pressed deeper into the earth.  At that very moment the voice stilled, the cloud dissolved, and the light disappeared.

 Peter looked up.  Their rabbi was alone.  His coat no longer shone with an unearthly light.  It looked like the grubby coat of a pilgrim camping on his way to Jerusalem. 

 “What do I do now, Lord?” Peter gasped. 

“Nothing,” answered Jesus.  “Peter, sometimes the best thing to do is nothing.  Today you just listen.” 

They stayed all day on the mountain.  Jesus told them how Moses’ prophecy had once been a beautiful gift now distorted into an excuse for condemnation.  How Elijah’s prophecy had once been a gift of God’s voice now drowned out by shouts of self-righteousness. 

He taught them how to still their thoughts and listen for God’s word.  At first it was hard work, much harder than throwing their nets and hauling in the catch. 

 “Peter, you’re trying too hard,” Jesus smiled more than once.  “You don’t have to wrestle and fight and use your muscle to earn this.  God’s already given it to you for free.  Peter, try softer.” 

 The valley was speckled with campfire light by the time they made their way down the mountain.  Peter rushed to the others sitting around their own fire.  He couldn’t wait to tell them what he’d seen and heard. 

He started.  He stopped.  He started again.  He fumbled for the right words.  He fell silent. 

He looked across the campfire to where his rabbi’s eyes sparkled in the light…

“Peter, there are some things words don’t express very well,” his eyes seemed to be saying.  “Peter, try softer.” 

Peter leaned back from the firelight.  He chuckled.  No rush.  He suspected he’d be trying to describe the indescribable for years.

 And of course he was years in the telling.  Papias, a writer in the second century, wrote that Mark talked with Peter before he wrote the first gospel. 

Even decades after the Transfiguration, Peter was still admitting the clumsy words he’d blurted out on the mountaintop and his fumbling inability to ever after describe the indescribable. 

Luke captured it again in his gospel.  And that’s what makes it so appealing to us now. 

“This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him.”  That’s a really good idea, isn’t it?  Listen to Jesus!  Close your mouth and open your ears.  Quit talking and start listening. 

Peter wouldn’t really do that until after the resurrection.  Before the resurrection, he often acts impetuously. 

He jumps out of a perfectly good boat to try to walk to Jesus over the water -- and then loses faith and begins to sink.  He will cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant in the Garden of Gethsemane. 

Peter was a real Type-A man -- the kind of man who needed to slow down and quiet down.

We, too, can get in trouble when we don’t slow down and listen and try softer. 

Christmas wasn’t very long ago.  Perhaps you can remember the Christmas rush and appreciate this story -- a true story as far as I know. 

I heard about a woman caught up in the Christmas rush who hastily grabbed a box of Christmas cards -- quickly addressed most of them -- and put them in the mail. 

Later, she happened to notice one of the leftovers.  Her heart sank when she read the inscription inside. 

It said: “This card is just to say a little gift is on the way.”

Oops!

Let me close with this story.  A father brought home a bulging briefcase every night, and spent every evening working through its contents. 

His daughter, a first grader, asked him why he did that.  The father explained that he had so much work to do that he couldn’t finish it during the day.  So the little girl asked, “Well, then, why don’t they put you in a slower group?”

If you are rushing through life pell-mell -- having no time to smell the flowers -- having no time for your family -- having no time for God -- maybe it’s time to move to a slower group!

Maybe it is time to try softer.  Stop and listen. 

Amen.