Luke's story of the Transfiguration is a wild tale. If made into a movie today, CGI special effects would definitely be required. Jesus' face and clothes change. Moses and Elijah, two great, departed teachers of God's word, appear alongside Jesus. Jesus talks with these specters. Then, a cloud descends over the mountain, and a voice says, "This is my Son, my Beloved; listen to him." This is wild stuff.
If we were Peter, John, or James, what would we have been thinking when all this was happening? Here we are, on this mountain with our teacher to pray, and his clothes change colors, we see him walking with dead people, and clouds start speaking. It makes one wonder if the praying that took place on that mountain involved peyote or mushrooms!
All joking aside though, Luke tells us that Peter, John, and James were at first tired, and then terrified. Perhaps they were tired from constant evangelism in a world whose status quo was about Roman domination, rather than the forgiveness of a New Way, and about Imperial victory instead of peasant justice. Perhaps it was startling, indeed terrifying, for the disciples to understand and experience that Jesus, a member of their everyday community, was truly speaking the Word of God. And in Luke's account of the Transfiguration, Jesus does not tell them to not be afraid. Jesus wants them to live deeply enough to understand what is being revealed. And living deeply is a scary thing. It moves beyond binaries, like Republican and Democrat. Like Christian and Muslim. Like female and male. Living deeply enough to live beyond boxes is terrifying business. Living beyond boxes in politics can leave a candidate without campaign funding. Living beyond religious boxes can leave one without a spiritual home. And living beyond gender boxes in a gendered world can get you killed. When Jesus is seen on the mountaintop as being man and ghost, teacher and God, it is truly startling to the disciples.
Because Luke's story of the Transfiguration is so supernatural, it's easy to imagine that Transfiguration is reserved for only Jesus, the one Son of God. But if God had only one child for whom resurrection was promised, then why is Jesus kibitzing with a resurrected Moses and a resurrected Elijah on the mountain? "This is my Son, my Beloved; listen to him!" says the voice from the cloud. The voice does not say, "This is my only Son, my only Beloved; listen only to him." The fellowship of the resurrected Moses, the resurrected Elijah, and the soon-to-be resurrected Jesus suggests that God has many children, many Beloveds, many prophets whose tongues are tattooed with God's word. Transfiguration is not reserved only for Jesus, but for any of us who are daring enough to live so deeply that we move beyond the binaries that we arrange so much of our lives around. Moses and Elijah are seen here to be living beyond notions of life and death - beyond binaries. Truly, there are transfigurations all around us. They are happening in this city. They are happening in this Judson community. And though we may be tired from the stresses of our weeks, we only need tune our senses just a bit finer to see through that fatigue, and understand how today's transfigurations can reveal to us the kingdom of God in our own lives.
How many of you were here for Ruby Rims' Valentine's Cabaret? Talk about a transfiguration! When I met Ruby, I understood he was a member of our Judson community, who had special talents in the realm of cabaret and female impersonation. For those that don't know, Ruby's cabaret, which Judson hosted last February 10, was a 90-minute musical romp through songs that were at times artistically campy, at times poignantly somber, but in all cases very deeply lived. Before the cabaret, I understood from many people that Ruby is one of the kindest, gentlest, most compassionate and loving souls we can know. But it wasn't until the cabaret, when I saw the appearance of his face change, and clothes change, did I fully understand that God is sending us news of a new world beyond binaries through the person of Ruby Rims. Ruby is God's child - God's beloved among us - and we do well to listen to him.
Like the disciples on the mountain, I was tired at the beginning of Ruby's show. I had just finished a long week of work, and as a lead organizer for the cabaret itself, you can imagine I was thoroughly exhausted as the curtain was drawn. Maybe you were there too, also tired from a long week of work. Enter Ruby; aglow in a curly brown wig, alive in makeup, and simply dazzling in a green sequin dress! In crowd-pleasing fashion, Ruby channeled Bette Davis and Carol Channing (with an aplomb that, frankly, I expected from a talent of his renown).
But about halfway through the show, something trans-formative happened. Ruby told the story of his first day at Judson, some twenty-one years ago, when he was invited to sing a song about what makes a man a man. As he told us the story of finding a church where he could be at home, he began removing his clothes. I was scared! What was happening? As he stripped down to his underwear, he then dressed back up in a pair of slacks and a man's jacket. All the while, he was singing the song he had sang to our church twenty-one years before. Once again, Ruby's face and clothes had changed. And as he asked us what makes a man a man, I understood he was engaging us in a rhetorical question that broke down our ideas of male and female, of this and that, of Republican and Democrat, gay and straight, Christian and Muslim.
Ruby kept singing, now in new costume. He sang about his belief that there are angels among us. He sang of his heart's abiding hope for life. He told us the good news of a world where beautiful men who are too often scorned by tiny religious dogma are no longer scorned, but welcomed, and celebrated, in the fellowship of a particular community that can coalesce around questions of faith.
In that moment of Ruby's transfiguration before my eyes, I understood him to be standing alongside the great prophets of this community. As he sang, he was walking and talking with the legacies of Edward Judson, Howard Moody, and Al Carmines. And almost as if it was coming from the rose window above Ruby's head, God was saying, "this is my child, my Beloved; listen to him." And Ruby taught us about the hope and beauty and forgiveness that are possible in this world - how God's kingdom is possible in this world. "Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God." I saw it that night. And it wasn't Republican or Democrat. It wasn't Christian or Muslim or Buddhist or Hindu or Jewish. It wasn't male or female. It was beyond our notions, like Ruby. It was transcendent. It was where every soul, every soul, helped to complete God. Every soul. Transfigurations are everywhere. They are here today. They show us the kingdom of God in our own lives, if we only live deeply enough to see them. And they are all around us!
Do we not glimpse the kingdom of God's mystery when Thom Fogarty comes up here to do a provocation - when he makes wine appear and disappear? Are his tricks not both awakening and eerie in what they imply? Are we not somewhat cracked open into awareness, and scared by our own shortcomings, when Kris Conklin helps us to understand what we can do to make a fair-trade world real? In those moments, isn't Kris standing with Edward and Howard and Al and Ruby and Thom and Donna and you? Walking and talking? Revealing herself as an angel among us, a prophet of God's word? How about last week, when Rose James brought Marian Anderson into this room, transfiguring time and space to help us understand that Marian's struggle is that struggle which our community, by its very act of meeting, is showing up present for today?
Transfigurations are everywhere. We only need to look past the binary rhetoric of time and space, of national borders, and of the real and unreal that conceal them. When Marian Anderson comes into our room, when fair-trade is made real, and as wine appears and disappears, the rules of one world are being transfigured into the wonder of another world. And we realize how each of us is God's child. How each of us has a teaching we can share. Every person is a holy person. Imagine the kingdom we will build when we live like that!
Last Saturday, I was having a rotten morning. I was stuck in the non-prayerful, stressful world of illusions. I had no idea how I could host Evelyn Harris singing workshop, come to church on Sunday, and possibly get all my academic assignments done as due for Monday afternoon. I thought I was going to explode under the weight of the responsibilities I had taken on. I was on the verge of tears - exhausted.
In the midst of this, I found myself at the post-office, mailing a package. When it was my turn, a clerk called me forward to the desk and asked me, "How are you?"
"Welllll…," I replied, "I've had a rough morning, but I imagine things can only get better from here." I was trying not to let tears well up in my eyes as I was saying this.
The clerk then looked right at me, the way you never look at a stranger in New York City, and sent me an enormous smile. Then she said, "There you go. You already have what you need to know. Things will get better for you. God bless you, young man."
I found this startling at first. She looked at me so directly, and spoke with a depth rarely encountered in small talk. "Thank you for your light." I responded as we finished my transaction.
She said, "I'm only reflecting the light you've brought to me."
Like Jesus for so many other people, when I needed a way out of my despair, this woman offered it to me. She offered it to me freely. She offered it as an unexpected gift. As I left the post-office, I realized she too, of course, was a child of God; God's chosen. She was holy, as is each of us. By listening to her, I'd received a moment in that kingdom we all rehearse making when we gather on Sundays. This day. The eighth day of the week that is both beyond the week we've had and before the week we're about to live. We worship in trans-space on this eighth day. And there are transfigurations everywhere. Jesus revealed one to Peter, John, and James. Ruby and the woman from the post-office revealed transfigurations to me, as have Thom, Kris, Rose, Abigail, Karl, Grace, and so many of you. You.
Let's get out of the polemic between sacred and profane, mundane and holy. Let's attune our lives to the transfigurations that are everywhere in our city, and in our world. Treat every person as a holy person. We are God's children, God's chosen. Our faces change and we reveal light to each other. Listen to us.
