Last Epiphany, Yr C (2025) The Rev. Karen C. Barfield
Last Epiphany, Yr C (2025) The Rev. Karen C. Barfield
Exodus 34:29-35 St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
Luke 9:28-43a
In the name of the one, holy, and loving God:
in whom we live, and move, and have our being. Amen.
Have you ever found yourself in the midst of a great cloud?
Or if not,
in the middle of a dense, dense fog…
perhaps up on top of one of these beautiful mountains?
What was it like?
Perhaps you were disoriented….
It was difficult to figure out where you were.
Or maybe you were frightened,
because you couldn’t see very far in front of you
and couldn’t tell where you were going.
I remember experiencing such frightening disorientation
when driving down the interstate.
It was raining,
and I hit a huge puddle of water on I-40 that appeared out of nowhere.
There was an 18-wheeler next to me,
and all of a sudden,
I could see nothing but gray.
Ray was sitting next to me and very calmly said:
“Don’t panic.
Don’t hit the brakes…
Just keep driving straight until we get through.”
I think his calm tone was just as helpful as the advice.
In my mind, a panicked shout-out to my Creator emerged
while I was listening to his sane advice.
Needless to say, I was terrified.
I was just hoping the 18-wheeler and us, in our little Prius, didn’t collide!
We got through just fine,
and I kept driving
although my heart was pounding.
Terror in a cloud.
In today’s gospel reading,
Jesus takes Peter and James and John up the mountain to get away…
to be alone and pray.
They go up the mountain to have some space…
some quiet…
some Peace.
And then out of the blue as they are standing there, two dead people show up!
Well, at least Moses died,
even though no one can point to his burial place.
And Elijah, well, Elijah didn’t officially die….
He was whisked away into the heavens,
but he was, at least, considered dead to his kindred on earth.
And as if this apparition wasn’t disturbing enough,
a great cloud rolls up out of nowhere,
wrappping itself around them so they can hardly breathe.
All of a sudden in this hoped-for quiet moment
the past, present, and future all collapse into one confusing and terrifying event.
In his confusion Peter mutters, “it’s good for us to be here.”
I mean, what else do you say?
And then a calm, firm voice from the heavens says,
“This is my son, my beloved; listen to him.”
In their terror,
they are receiving direction.
“This is my son…listen to him.”
The last time this voice issued forth from the heavens was at Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan.
Except
only Jesus heard it that time….
What could it all mean…
the presence of Moses and Elijah,
the enfolding of the cloud,
and God’s voice issuing forth?
Well…Jesus has been engaged in his earthly ministry…
calling disciples to follow him,
himself teaching and healing and sending his disciples out to do likewise.
Jesus is telling them that his days on earth are numbered;
his days of ministry are coming to a close.
Do they get it yet?
He won’t be here forever,
so this work of the Kindom will be up to them.
They are next in line to carry on God’s reconciling work in the world.
And yet their understanding of what Jesus is saying
seems to be as dense as standing in the midst of a dark cloud.
Perhaps this incident on the mountain is a baptism of sorts for Peter and James and John:
a baptism calling for their lives to be transformed…
a baptism to take with them down the mountain…
back into the world…
a world in need of healing…
A world in which they must set aside their own agenda for the way they think things ought to be…
in service to the Kindom of God…
a kindom of mercy and love and forgiveness and healing.
And those words:
“This is my Son…listen to him…”
those are the words that are to be their guiding Light
in the midst of confusion and darkness.
How will the disciples respond?
How will we respond?
“This is my son, my beloved.
Listen to him.”
It seems we all too often find ourselves in the midst of a cloud of confusion…
perhaps more often than not these days.
That may take the form of yourself or a loved one receiving an unexpected diagnosis,
or concern over the potential loss of a job for yourself or a loved one,
or simply not knowing what’s going to happen in the world from day to day.
In these times, listening to the steady, calm voice of God
can give us direction
and comfort.
“This is my Son, my Beloved.
Listen to him.”
Listening to and following Jesus sets us free.
Jesus calls us to die to ourselves
and to live for God.
And God will sustain us on our journeys.
By living into our own baptisms,
we are buried with Christ and raised to new life,
and in this new life we are called reach out as vessels of healing for one another.
Today we stand on the threshold between Epiphany and Lent,
as Jesus did that day on the mountaintop,
at the crossroad between his earthly ministry and the road to Jerusalem and the cross.
During Lent perhaps we, too, might take some time away…
time to reflect on where we have fallen short on living out our baptismal promises…
time to listen for where God is calling us
to exhibit God’s grace and healing presence in this world.
How might God be calling us to be witnesses and agents of healing in this world?
Jesus and the disciples come down the mountain,
and the first thing they encounter is a child possessed by a demon.
Jesus reaches out and heals this child.
It is a power the disciples did not believe they had,
but Jesus tells them differently.
Jesus shows us God’s power and glory…
and calls us to share in that healing power and grace.
That can be terrifying…
and we may believe that we do not have the power to accomplish such marvelous works.
Jesus seems to think otherwise.
So…where might Jesus be calling us?
And, do we have the courage to follow?
My friends, the Spirit of God surrounds us and sustains us,
and grants us the power to transform the world.
Our job is to listen to God’s direction,
hold steady through the clouds we enter
and emerge faithful in love.
Amen.
