nobody ever stops here

from my sermon on 3/6/11 , Transfiguration of the Lord, from Matthew 17:1-9

As a Christian, one does not go to the Holy Land as a tourist, but as a pilgrim. It is not a trip so much as a spiritual journey. In 1997, Cathy got to go for the first time, and I for the second time.

It is a long flight on El Al airlines, the official carrier of Israel. During the night, the gentleman on my left, a proud Israeli, asked, "Have you heard about the modern day exodus of the Ethiopian Jews?" "No." He said, "For years our people had been harrassed, persecuted, and executed by the Communist dictator there. We had been sneaking them out in small groups by land, air, and sea. In May of 1991, the fear was the wholesale slaughter of our people. We got the UN to hold the airfield open. We chartered aircraft. In just over 26 hours, we airlifted out over 14,000 people. We resettled them across Israel. All Jewish need to know that they have a home."

I wrote some notes about this story in my journal, but upon landing I quickly forgot about it. I was jetlagged, sleep deprived, and excited. After landed in Tel Aviv, we went to Jerusalem, the city set upon a hill.

From the very first moments, we noticed that there were 3 older nuns aboard our bus. They said that there were Episcopal nuns. Yes, the Episcopal Church has nuns. They told our guide that there were of the Order of the Mount of Transfiguation, our scripture passage references today. They said, "It was in the brochure that we were going to the Mount of Transfiguration as a part of this tour. We have lived our whole lives in anticipation of going to our namesake site." The guide assured them, "It is a part of our tour. We will be there on Thursday."

We quickly got caught up in the Holy Land, the Fifth Gospel. To walk where Jesus walked is a powerful thing. We strode along the Via Delarosa, the traditional path that Jesus took toward his crucifixion. We went to the Church of the Holy Seplechure where Jesus is said to have been buried. We went to the Western Wall, where people from all over the world still place their prayers in between the cracks of the huge stones that make up the outer retaining wall of the old Temple mount. All of the sights, sounds, smells, feelings are just overwhelming. But every day, the nuns would ask about going to the Mount of Transfiguration. "On Thursday, we will be there," the guide promised them.

So on Thursday, we got up and off in plenty of time. We headed north. Israel is a tiny country. I think we may have some counties in far west Texas that are larger than this whole nation. We stop at Caesarea by the Sea. We head in the middle of the afternoon to the Mount of Transfiguration. There is still plenty of daylight. At the base of the mountain, the driver and the guide get out to talk to the cab drivers. The road to the top is narrow and winding. There are switchbacks and ess-curves. You can see the guide talking with the drivers. In Israel, one has to talk with the hands. After several minutes, the driver and guide re-enter our bus. The guide takes the microphone and says, "We can't go up to the top of the Mount of Transfiguration. All of the cab drives are Muslim. There is a major Muslim holiday that begins at sundown. There is plenty of time to get to the top, but not back down again before the holiday begins. I am so sorry."

If you were to look in the dictionary under the words "crestfallen," "disappointed," and "crushed," you would find the pictures of these 3 nuns. They had waited their whole lives for just this moment, and now it was ruined. All life and energy seemed to drain out of them. They were good Christian women. They didn't curse. They didn't rant. They took it quietly.

As we left the Mount of Transfiguration, heading up north to the Sea of Galilee and Tiberius where we were to spend a couple of nights, there was a cold, funeral atmosphere as if something had died. As we were driving along, the guide kept looking out the left window, back to the west. He said, "There is a a beautiful sunset behind the Mount of Transfiguration. I know it is not enough, but maybe we could at least stop and take a picture of the Mount from along the road. At the next pull out we will park the bus and let you get out and take a picture." Fairly soon, the driver spotted a small dirt road that led to what looked to be a trailer park to the east. He got us safely off the highway. We trudged down the steps and tried to put the best face on what was going on. We were looking back west, taking pictures of the nuns and the mount. We did not notice, but from the east, from the trailer houses, all of these little children were coming to greet us. All of these little black children. All of these litttle black, Ethiopian children. All of these little, black Ethiopian Jewish children who had been rescued.

We gave them candy and gum. We took their pictures. Our guide interpreted for us. He translated, "They are saying, 'Nobody ever stops here. They stop at the Mount of Transfiguration. They stop at Jerusalem. They stop in Galilee. But nobody ever stops here.'" The children were attracted to the nuns and their habits. They thought that they were angels. Suddenly the nuns were transfigured. The word means changed, transformed. The nuns were smiling. The reason for their coming all of this way was abundantly clear. Sometimes you don't have to go to the mountaintop to have a mountaintop experience.

Most of life is not lived on the mountaintop. Most of life cannot be captured, localized, held enshrined. That's what happens in the passage. Jesus takes his inner circle to this awesome encounter with God. Peter tries to hold onto it, and in a pedestrian way says, "Uh, Lord, it's good for us to be here. Why don't I build 3 dwellings so we can just stay here." I love the way Matthew remembers this event. He says, "While Peter was still speaking..." God interrupts! God's glory comes as a cloud and a voice says, "This is my Son, the beloved one, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him!" Has God ever interrupted you? Has God ever said, "Nobody ever stops here?" "You can't localize me, bind me, keep me." This is the God I know, one who won't be captured in a single place.

We do what Peter wants to do. We go to the Walk to Emmaus and have a mountaintop experience. And God says, "Nobody ever stops here." We go to women of faith conference, or men of promise, or Beth Moore Bible Study and we think, "This is it. This is where I want to stay for ever." And God says, "Nobody ever stops here."

It may be a former church, or Sunday School class, or former pastor or former youth director, or mission trip that we want to hold onto. And God says, "Nobody ever stops here." It may be coming to the table today to take communion, but we are not called to stop here.

Maybe it is church membership. Pastor Jim and I went to the Bishop's Convocation this past week. We heard Mike Slaughter of Ginghamsburg UMC challenge us. He said, "We don't need to try to get more people in the church. We need to get the church more into the world." Nobody ever stops here.

The disciples are afraid. They literally fall on their faces. Jesus touches them and says to them, "Get up and do not be afraid." He has othe mountains to climb. One is a small hill outside of Jerusalem where on Good Friday He shows us what God's love looks like. Then after His resurrection, He meets His disciples on a mountain in Galilee, so says Matthew's gospel.

When the disciples look up, they see nobody but Jesus alone. Nobody ever stops here, when we are following Jesus.

This is the Transfiguration of the Lord, the last Sunday of the season of Epiphany, this "aha" season. My last "aha" came this morning out walking. We meet Christ at the base of the mountain not just at the top of the Mount of Transfiguration. And it is not just Christ who is transformed. We are. Nobody ever stops here.