Transfiguration -- Mark 9:2-9

Grace and peace from God our Creator, hope in our redeemer Jesus Christ, and the promised gifts of the Holy Spirit are with you all. Amen.

I studied abroad in Türkiye the summer between my junior and senior year of college. It was so hot the whole time we were there. I really don’t even know how I survived sweating that much. I was worried, especially, about the heat the day we decided to climb a mountain. We arrived at the foot of this serious hike, got out of the bus, and the air was cool and damp. Fog rolled through the small peaks above us. And we began the trek.

When we got to the top – to an untouched Greek-style theater, built into the rock – it was breathtaking. We spent the better part of that morning just climbing all over those rocks to get as many different vantage points of those mountains as we could. Looking at that photograph from that day in Termessos, I am reminded that it is easy to think of the Holy Spirit from the high vantage point of a mountaintop. The wind whips across your face as you look out over all that God has created, in that moment created it all just for you to see and hear and touch and breathe. The world is so beautiful at the top of a mountain – the whole, impossible world is within your reach. This is the mountaintop experience with the transfigured Jesus.

In the 8^th chapter of Mark’s gospel, the story just before this one, Jesus is asking the disciples who they say that he is. It seems the ever-stumbling disciples are finally beginning to understand! Peter says that Jesus is the Messiah! And then Jesus explains what that will mean – that he will die – and Peter, after all, has not understood who Jesus is. So much so, that Jesus says, “Get behind me, Satan!” because Peter is stuck in this human understanding and not growing toward the divine understanding. It is following this altercation that Jesus leads Peter, with James and John, up a mountain. Maybe, this time, they’ll get it.

Can you imagine what was said during the climb? If I’d been there, I certainly would have asked where we were going and why. And Jesus probably would not have directly answered me. You know how he is. But we’d made a commitment to follow Jesus wherever he led us, and so up that mountain we’d go.

The story goes that when these three disciples and Jesus arrived at the top, Jesus was suddenly transfigured before them – and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. What a sight to see. No wonder Peter had no idea what to do. And as if the dazzling whiteness were not enough, suddenly there appears the founder and the restorer of Israel – Moses and Elijah.

So far in Peter’s memory, Jesus has spent his life with a bunch of fishermen…and suddenly he is on a mountaintop with the two greatest heroes of Peter’s people. Who is this man, Jesus, that Moses and Elijah would appear before him? This is a defining moment for Peter. This is a moment he wants to last forever. And how to do that? Build a home, there, so that these great leaders could stay. So that this moment could be preserved.

Peter says we should build a house – a dwelling place, a tent, a tabernacle, a temple, depending on who you’re reading – one each for Moses and for Elijah and for Jesus. Peter sees that this mountaintop experience is one he will never forget for the rest of his life. He can’t even figure out what’s happening. Is it real? Are Moses and Elijah really there? Who is this man, Jesus, that has led Peter and James and John up to this mountain peak? What is going on? He doesn’t know.

And there’s more to the story of my Turkish mountaintop, too. It’s why I hold so tightly to Peter’s part in this story. We spent our next bus ride – hours long, across the Turkish countryside – plotting just how wonderful our lives together could be if we moved to Türkiye permanently. I had this conversation with two of my closest friends from college. Jocelyn, my roommate, had graduated. She was off to graduate school in New Hampshire when we returned from Turkey. Cassidy was a year behind me, but soon his life would cease to be my everyday, as well. The three of us felt deeply the poignancy of this, our last mountaintop experience.

We wanted to build ourselves a home and a life in this place so we could be this way forever. Even as we were plotting, we knew it didn’t make sense but that didn’t matter. The words of where we’d live and where we’d work and where we’d study tumbled out of our mouths as though it were already truth. This is what happened to Peter on the mountaintop with Jesus.

And just as our future in Türkiye was fleeting, the mountaintop world ends for them, too. Just as suddenly as Moses and Elijah had arrived, they are gone. And instead is the thundering voice of God from the clouds, “This is my son, the Beloved; Listen to him!” As though the disciples were not terrified enough, already! There’s no way Peter could ever need further convincing of just how special this man, Jesus, was.

When Jesus was transfigured, the Greek text says his garments began to shine. You know, like the hymn, “Shine, Jesus, Shine.” The first verse goes, “Lord, the light of your love is shining, in the midst of our darkness – shining. Jesus, light of the world, shine upon us! Set us free by the truth you now bring us.”

The radiant image of Jesus, transfigured, will never leave the minds and hearts of these three disciples. The words of God will stick with them. They’ll listen to Jesus for a while longer. They’ll keep asking their questions and offering up misguided guesses and just trying to get along in a world that doesn’t quite have eyes for the light of Christ. We as hearers of this story share in that with them. "Here in this place, a new light is streaming."

As Jesus was transfigured on a mountaintop before three of his friends, so does the light of Christ transfigure us here, now, before our friends. It may, at times, be confusing. We may, at times, wonder just what’s going on, what we should be doing, what part we will play. But we have made a commitment to bring forth the kingdom of justice. We are the people who will shine Christ’s light to the world. We are the bumbling disciples, that is for sure.

But those bumbling disciples went on their way preaching and teaching and people told their story for generations until finally some people started to write it down and it somehow became that book we read out of this morning. You may feel like Peter felt, gazing upon Moses and Elijah and Jesus when you think back to Peter and to Paul and to all the apostles whose stories we tell. And just because this book is finished does not mean the story ends, here. The story begins, here. This incident in Mark’s gospel is a turning point. From here on out, everything points to Easter. Lent begins in a few days. All signs point to Easter. And so we cannot stay here, in this place where we have encountered the light of Christ. We must go on, toward Easter. 

"As we gaze on his kingly brightness, so our faces display his likeness….mirrored here, may our lives tell the story." 

Shine, Jesus, Shine.

A week in our nation's capitol.

Okay so I was a little ambitious with that "day one" thing and intended to be posting every day...which obviously did not occur. But seriously this was a fantastic trip. I neglected to mention in my previous post that I fell down the stairs of the Lincoln Memorial. Obviously I survived but it seriously hurt and I have serious bruises. Sick life.

If you are my friend on Facebook, you can see all of the pictures that we took in DC. If you are not, you are a stranger and therefore all you get are these instagrams. <3

Saturday we saw the Nationals and Padres play at Nationals Park! It was a billion degrees but our seats were covered and then it rained a little and was ultimately weather confusing. But sitting in a ballpark is a sort of home for me (even a park I've never been to), so this was a lovely afternoon. And my Padres even won!

That afternoon we scoped some museums and then had dinner at this AMAZING mediterranean tapas place. And I got to eat Hünkar Beğendi -- the most delicious lamb/eggplant/yum we ate in İstanbul that I didn't think I would ever eat again -- plus amazing falafel and spanakopita and fattoush! It was joyous. Plus, dinner conversation with the five of us is never far from lively. Look for Krystal Rose and Bambi LaFontana at Open Pole Nights near you.

Then, Sunday morning was spent at the Holy Grail that is the Truman Bowling Alley! It's in the basement of the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, and only the coolest politicians and friends of White House staffers (haha) get to the bowl there! It was so so so fun.

After bowling we went to actual church at the National Cathedral. Holy wow. It was so beautiful and the stained glass was incredible...I wasn't feeling well so I didn't take a lot of pictures. But google it or something. And as we were looking at them, this older man came up to us to explain what was going on in the glass. We were looking at one of the Flood (which was pretty clear) and he told us the story, then took us over to see the coolest window -- space travel! The weird part, though, was that he just talked to Fletcher, not me. As though obviously Fletcher, as the man, would be the one interested in the information, and would then relay it to me. In this situation, I'd consider myself the one with the expertise. He had no way of knowing that, of course, but it was awkward behavior on his part all the same.

After church we had some down time at our hotel before going over to Amanda's lovely apartment for dinner and games. Yumm, foods.

Aforementioned games consisted of a few rounds of Clue, during which Pammie fell asleep and my mom inadvertently sabotaged the whole game by lying at the beginning about whether or not she had Mrs. Peacock. Oh, Mama.

Then on Monday (Memorial Day) we went on a tour of the Capitol Building. So beautiful. There's this "orientation video" at the beginning that sort of explains why we have this building and the five-minute version of why we have a Congress. The Capitol is a representation of our government of the people, by the people, for the people. But it seems that in recent years, we've perverted that. The video displayed the titles of a lot of really important legislation over the years. Each time, it seemed, certain unalienable rights had been unfairly denied people by their fellow countrymen, and congress had made sure that stopped happening. Now, it seems, congress takes it upon itself to deny people their rights. This is very sad.

The rotunda!

After the capitol, we went to the beautiful Library of Congress and walked past the Supreme Court. Washington is full of seriously epic buildings.

On Tuesday, we went to Arlington National Cemetery, and a weird thing happened. I am seriously going to remember this for the rest of my life and tell it to everyone and always feel...weird about it. On our way to Arlington on the Metro, we saw a young man in his shiny Navy whites. He was in seriously pristine condition all around. He didn't sit or touch anything on the Metro because it is dirty and he was so impeccably dressed, haha. I noticed that he was pretty new to the service because he only had like one or two decorations on his uniform. [Disclaimer: I don't know anything about military ranks or uniforms or medals or seriously anything. I don't know what to call him and so I will just say sailor and hope that that is not super offensive.] I hoped that his name tag would say his rank on it, but apparently in the military you can tell ranks by what uniforms look like, so that's not necessary. It just had his last name on it. It was an unusual last name, and so I committed it to memory for no reason other than that I'm creepy. He got off at the Pentagon to do some important Pentagon-y business. He was probably barely older than I am. An hour or so later, as we're walking from the Kennedy grave sites to the Tomb of the Unknowns, I saw a giant headstone with that same sailor's last name on it in huge letters. I'm comfortable assuming they're related. But what are the odds of that? That I'd see that sailor on the train, notice his name, then happen on the tomb of his veteran relative at Arlington?

I think we're all aware that I have a lot of conflicting feelings about the military in general. I don't want us to ever have to go to war, but I understand that we've made that a necessary component of global society. And even when we're fighting wars we shouldn't be fighting, brave Americans have to go and do that fighting. San Diego has a large military population surrounding our bases, but it's not like we're a "military town" in any sense that I feel. I have one friend from high school (that I'm aware of) currently serving in the Navy, and I am so proud of him for that. [When I saw this kid on the train, I immediately thought of Jake.] But I almost don't make the connection that these two men in their crisp uniforms are those same men [and women] on the ground in Afghanistan. There's really a cognitive leap there, for me.

And so I'm one of those people who doesn't support wars but supports troops. What does that even mean? I didn't support the troops who got to Baghdad and shot at Qur'ans and baptized each other in the fountains in Saddam's palace. I didn't support the troops who killed innocent families in their homes. But I support Jake and I support this young sailor for being a part of a tradition in their families and courageously protecting their country. I really, truly, support that.

The Tomb of the Unknowns was a really beautiful experience. It was like 95 degrees out and these beautiful soldiers were clicking along their 21 steps and waiting their 21 seconds without a hitch. And the changing of the guards was so impressive -- all three soldiers involved were very impressive. They were covered in medals and all sorts of things. [Again, the disclaimer.] It should also be noted that no one gets like, relegated to guard the Tomb of the Unknowns. It is a prestigious assignment, of which you can tell they are very proud. 

After Arlington we went to the Thomas Jefferson memorial, which is so perfect. Thomas Jefferson was a rad, dude, guys. He wrote some of the most important words in the history of our nation. He wrote the Declaration of Independence! No big deal. He wrote about those truths that we find to be self-evident. And about liberty and responsibility and knowledge...he's a "founding father" I think we should all get behind. 

Being in Washington was a confusing experience on the whole, though. My two great passions in this world are religion and politics. My undergraduate degree is in Religion, and I'm in the process of a Masters degree in the same vein. So you know where I spend most of my time. Politics has become really just a hobby and conversation topic and a blog topic. And I watch CNN and MSNBC like it's my J-O-B. But walking down the streets of our nation's capitol felt almost like a taste of another life. If I'd studied politics in college instead...would I be in Washington, now? Would I be a grad intern in some giant Department of Something building? Would it be me sweating to death (and in heels!) on the Metro?

I would never say that I am dissatisfied with where I am, academically, right now. Studying in Berkeley is so wonderful. But a part of me that I didn't even know was laying low came ALIVE this week. And I have to honor that. I have to figure out a way to feed that. I have to figure out a way to get there.

I wish the ocean was closer to Berkeley.

You know the part where my vision of heaven is an eternal ocean? Khalil Gibran has this to say:

Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

I don’t really have much to say. I read this today on my new friend Danny’s facebook profile. I hardly know Danny. He lives with one of my fellow first-year PLTSers, though he’s a PhD student at Cal. In mechanical engineering. But he has some fascinations with world religions and global identity…so we had some things to chat about. He was telling me about this necklace he has from somewhere (I forget now) that is made of bones and skulls and horns and stuff and that he actually wore it once. Cool? Oh, and when he saw my bumper stickers he said, “You’re a weird Christian girl. But I like you.”

So we chatted a bit and he noticed the abundance of Turkishness in my apartment. So he says, “You’ve been to Turkey?” To which I responded, as usual, with an overexcited, “Turkey, my love! Yes!” So then we talked about Turkey and he was disappointed that I didn’t have my Turkey book with me (I dumbly left it at home. Mom is shipping it, duh.) and he wants to see it when I get it. And he said that I have to come back over to his place to see all his sweet artifacts. Also, his favorite drink is a gin and tonic. We’re going to be cool friends.

But back to the point. This Gibran quotation sidles right up to my heaven as ocean idea. Certainly, my idea that God, the ocean, is love, moving between the shores of our souls…that’s so beautiful. My spiritual affinity as water drop thing doesn’t totally fly, but when you’re making up what heaven is, stuff doesn’t have to line up exactly.

On the subject, I just recalled an idea of heaven that my friend Kayla (whom I met in Seattle at LifeMatters! two summers ago) postulated: God singing bass, Jesus singing tenor, Kayla singing alto, the Holy Spirit singing soprano in eternal harmony. Gorgeous! I love it. I think I’m going to share it in class sometime. I’m sure there will be an opportunity. Maybe not in class, actually. Maybe more like in someone’s apartment over beers. So far, that’s where we’ve had more deep, theological conversation (granted, we’ve had only one day of class).

So far, I’ve met some good people. I think some people have met me and thought the same. It’s a good place, this PLTS.