Sermons

From a Distance
The Very Rev. Tracey Lind
Last Sunday of Epiphany
February 3, 2008

Exodus 24:12-18; Matthew 17:1-9

From a distance...
The world looks blue and green
And the snow capped mountains white

These words written by Julie Gold in 1985 remind me of that extraordinary photograph of the earth taken by John Glenn while orbiting around the planet in space. According to Gold's song, recorded by The Byrds and Nancy Griffith and then made famous by Bette Midler:

From a distance...
There is harmony
And it echoes through the land

From thousands of miles up in the sky, astronauts have observed a sense of completeness and unity on the earth where from a distance one could be fooled into believing that:

We all have enough
And no one is at war

From thousands of miles up in the sky, one might hear the voice of every man, woman and child singing in harmony.

Whenever I hear Julie Gold's song, or look at the Apollo 17 earth photo, my mind travels to this morning's texts: the Story of Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration, and the Story of Moses on Mt. Sinai. These two powerful tales of our faith take us to that place where, from a distance, we can see the world through God's eyes. They lead us to a place where, from a distance, we can see the way things ought to be.

It is no wonder in a world where life is messy, so messy that we should eat it over the sink, leadership training and organizational development gurus urge us to periodically step back from our daily work at ground level and look at things from "50,000 feet up" in order to get "a bird's eye view" of the situation at hand. It is no surprise that we've finally cleared our desks off and head out with time and space, we see the world from a different perspective, and we're inclined to stay there on the mountaintop. Think about the last time you were on a plane, flying across the country. As you look out the window at the ground below, the rural landscape is divided and organized into tidy parcels of land, cities are laid-out in logical grid patterns, and highways that run along straight lines. Even mountain ranges seem almost tame, forests appear to be contained, and rivers and lakes logically flow into each other. When we look at life from a distance, there truly is a feeling of harmony and order.

This week, beginning today, we will witness what many will call two mountaintop experiences: Super Bowl and Super Tuesday. This evening some football team will be declared the best in the land, and they will want to stay on that mountain of fame forever - at least until next season. On Tuesday, two Presidential candidates will be declared the likely victors of their party, and they will be inclined to cling to that mountain of victory for a while - until the next campaign stop.

What difference will Super Sunday or Super Tuesday make? Not much, I'm afraid: not unless a football player decides to use his fame to affect the lives of young people, and not unless the winning candidates decide to use this presidential election as an opportunity for substantive discourse and debate on the real issues facing our nation.

What happened when Moses and Joshua went up on the mountain? They encountered first-hand the glory of God. They heard the voice of the Holy One from heaven. Moses received the Ten Commandments - the divine instructions for human living. But when they came back down, they discovered that God's chosen people were worshipping false idols.

What happened when Jesus, Peter, James and John went up on the mountain? They encountered first-hand the power of the Living God in Jesus. They heard the voice of the Holy One from heaven. They received divine instructions for following God's way. But when came back down with strong vision, determination and faith, and their faces set toward Jerusalem, they quickly realized how hard it was to follow Christ and lead God's beloved people.

Going up on the mountain didn't change the world. It didn't clean up the mess in the valley. But it did change Moses and Joshua; and Jesus, Peter, James and John, just as the events of this week will inevitably change the lives of some football players and presidential candidates.

A few years ago, a woman from Jamaica told me that once a year her congregation makes a pilgrimage to the mountains to receive anew the Ten Commandments. Everybody went, and if someone couldn't go for reasons of poor health, someone else went in their place. I've tried to image that scene in my mind's eye: all those people - young and old, tall and short, strong and weak - climbing together up a mountain; and then when they get to the top, hearing their pastor proclaim anew the Ten Commandments. Then I try to envision all of us at Trinity doing the same thing. We can't even all show up to worship together on the same Sunday; much less take time out of our busy schedules to go mountain climbing together. But what would happen if we did travel together to the mountains? Some who might be the most professionally accomplished among us might need the most help on the climb, and others who by worldly standards might not be so successful might become leaders on this journey. And for everybody to reach the top, we would all have to help each other, with the young carrying the old, and the old encouraging the young. There at the top, I bet we would have an epiphany, and I know that the life of our congregation would be markedly different.

Going mountain climbing is an essential part of life. There are times when life becomes so messy that all we can do is eat over the sink, so perplexing that we can't see the forest through the trees, so complicated that we feel like we've lost our compass, and so difficult that we can't imagine getting through the storm. These are the times when we lose perspective, and maybe even hope. These are the times for us to climb mountains: to go up high and look at the situation from 50,000 feet rather than at sea level. But that doesn't necessarily mean traveling to a distance or climbing up high altitudes. You can do it in your own backyard or in the privacy of your own room. It might mean taking a vacation, spending a weekend alone, or saying your daily prayers. Whatever way you choose to do it, the first step is to begin the journey: to determine that you will climb above your daily life and gain perspective. As you begin to climb, you will find that you have to leave the extra baggage behind; it gets too heavy to carry. And then you have to keep climbing, even when you get tired. You have to keep going till you reach the top. When you get tired, you might have to ask for and receive help.

Friends, on this last Sunday before Lent, perhaps, it is time to get ready to climb a mountain or two. You will find that in the climbing, you will get stronger. When you reach the mountaintop, you will get a clearer vision. As you descend, the situation come will into sharper focus. When you return home, the work will still be there, but you will be able to face it - head-on. And, as I always say, you won't be alone. Jesus has gone before you, and the Risen Christ will accompany you. That's a promise.

So when life gets messy, don't just eat over the sink. Go have a picnic on a mountaintop.