delivered 22 February 2009
by Rev. Dr John Evans
2 Kings 2:1-12
Psalm 50:1-6
Mark 9:2-9
Fear and terror are basic human emotions – perhaps the basic human emotions. Fear and terror can paralyse us; close down our life; or drive us to achieve and do amazing things.
Alison Powell and daughter lost their home in Flowerdale
Fear and terror have been the constant companion for so many in this state since that horror Saturday two weeks ago. Again and again we have heard of amazing acts of bravery and courage in the face of terror. We have read and heard stories of remarkable survival – against all the odds. We have seen and heard from the heroes: the heroes who contended with and triumphed over fear and terror. Today, this National Day of Mourning we thank the heroes. However, we particularly think of the private and quiet ones – the children, those who have lost loved ones, or a pet or a livelihood, a treasured possession – who find terror and fear still their daily companion. And for them life is still dark and grim, despite the huge outpouring of grief, help and that mixed blessing of national and international attention.
And so we stand with them. We stand with them in their fear: fear of that day, fear of the future; and their fear for themselves and their loved ones.
Fear and terror. What can we do? Not all of us are heroes . . . and yet somehow we need to meaningfully cope.
Now fear and terror is not seen to be a theme or motif, or indeed present at all, in our usual rendering of the story of the transfiguration of Jesus. Far from it. Here is a glorious occasion; the prefiguring of who Jesus is for us – the Son of God. Jesus is changed from glory into glory – shining and transfigured on a high mountain top in the company of the greats of Jewish history – Moses and Elijah. Indeed this incident becomes, as Brendan Byrne the Melbourne biblical commentator suggests, the middle pillar, foundation, of the whole gospel of Mark.
At the baptism of Jesus, there is announced from Heaven, ‘This is my beloved son with whom I well pleased.’ The first pillar.
At the foot of the cross there is, of all people, a representative of empire – a Roman centurion – who states, ‘Truly, this man was God’s son‘: the third or final pillar.
And here in the middle of the gospel of Mark, a turning point in Christ’s ministry. It is spectacularly revealed through his transfiguration and the words from heaven, ‘This is my beloved son.’
Here is a major theme for us and for this Gospel – this person, this Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah, the Christ, the son of the living God. Mark however, also entwines another theme through this story, for it is not just about glory. It is also about suffering, the cross and Jesus’ profound love for us through setting his course to travel to Jerusalem and die.
And the disciples during this story of Mark do not understand how these two themes, seemingly contradictory themes, can play out. The paradox and ambiguity of it all flummoxes them. At times they get it so wrong. And again here on this mountain top, they are confused. They are said in Mark’s account and also in Luke and Matthew, not to understand or know. Peter, their representative, suggests (we can imagine) rather earnestly, building three tents, three tabernacles or booths, to commemorate the occasion. At that point the blazing light ends, they are corrected and promptly led off the mountain.
However, the gospel of Mark differs from the other gospels at this point. The three disciples, on seeing the transfiguration, not only did they not understand what was happening, Mark says they were terrified . . . explicitly stated in verse 6. They were exceedingly afraid, as one translation says. Fear and terror filled them at the sight of the transfigured Christ.
Fear. Not joy, praise, wonder – but fear and terror.
Indeed it is another powerful though perplexing theme we have in Mark’s gospel – and not really present in the other gospels. At critical points in the story of Jesus there is fear when we may have expected a different reaction. At this point in the story, one of the very pillars of the whole narrative, there is fear; and then at the very conclusion of the gospel, at the discovery of the empty tomb by the women, there is also fear. We read:
So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone for they were afraid. (16:8)
In this gospel account of Mark, terror and amazement seem to go together. The sheer amazement of what is happening in their lives, what unfolds before them, the fixed religious order of things – has been turned on its head; things have happened that just blow them away. Amazing yes; but they are terrified.
Mark, I suggest, has a reason for emphasising this particular aspect of the story of Jesus – just as the other gospel writers often have different emphases on the gospel story. We can assume that this happens because of the context of the gospel writers’ Christian community. Of course with Mark’s gospel we do not know these details for sure. The community may have been in Rome. It certainly was in a place where there was considerable Roman influence. Again, Brendan Byre is helpful. He says:
Mark wrote for a community that, while engaged in the spread of the Gospel to the wider world, had very recently experienced a sharp and devastating persecution. (xviii)
Fear was for this small group of followers of the Christian way, a constant companion. Thus the fear of the actual disciples of Jesus, not unreasonably gets featured in the story.
So if we look at this story of the transfiguration of Jesus and focus not so much on the amazement of the disciples, and our amazement and wonder at who Jesus is – where most comments on the story focus; but look at the fear of Peter, James and John – I think there is learning for us and for the church today.
For in our story, fear led Peter to want to build those three booths: that memorial to this amazing moment; a shrine to Moses, Elijah and Jesus. Now I would not have normally thought much about this, but in the last two weeks we have all heard, from the Prime Minister down, words to the effect that we will rebuild every last house, school, town or village as being our response to the terror of those fires. I do not know if that is wise, helpful or the right thing to do. It could be; but I am strongly thinking that, not unreasonably, in terror and fear we are forced to hold on to the past; and fear causes us to seek out the known and familiar?
At one level this can be very important – and it can help us cope with our fear. The memory of the familiar is very comforting. It can be healing. But then I tried to put myself in the shoes of that Markan community hearing the gospel of Jesus for the first time. Rome, imperial Rome, had just destroyed Jerusalem. Not just conquered; destroyed it; brick by brick. It was the year 70. Imperial might was dominant. Fear and terror abounded, especially for Christians. The Christian church was at best a fragile flower. What would I do? What would we all do?
Remember again this event. Yes, Jesus is our Lord and saviour, Son of God. Having three booths, some tangible sign of this and former glory, would seem like a good option. But the message of hope; the gospel in this incident – to those fearful disciples, simply was the voice of God from the cloud: “Listen to him!” Listen to my beloved son. Don’t dwell on the past; move on; don’t build permanent things – Listen to him. Be open to listening to him. Know him, and listen to him.
Cope with your fear by following in the way of Jesus; loving and supporting one another. Listen to his message of love – listen to the hope that he offers. In Mark’s gospel that very much ties up with Jesus’ promise to return and fulfil this new way of living he calls the kingdom of God. But, Listen to him.
I think it is a fair analysis that many in our Uniting Church are fearful at this time – fearful for the church and its diminishing role within society, fearful about its future; fearful for what they have to show for a lifetime of labour; it seems now all to be dissipating.
And our response – is it to build booths to some past glory? Or is it to wait patiently for the Lord? To listen to him?
When we are afraid – what is our response? Building booths may be appropriate – but do we listen to Jesus?
Our community still is struggling with the fear and terror of these fires. What is our response: it is, I believe quite sincerely, quietly listen; listen to the God speaking to us through the earth crying out; listen to those who have and still are suffering; listen through the power of the Holy Spirit, as to what God may be saying to us. Listen.
And for the church, this church – how can we cope with our fear and amazement? Listen, listen to people who we know, who live here our neighbours, listen to each other.
Listen to God’s beloved Son, Jesus.
