The
Last Sunday after The Epiphany
Luke
9:28-36
Who
Are Those Guys?
In Butch Cassidy and the Sundance
Kid, you have two outlaws being chased relentlessly by a pack of horsemen and a
cloud of dust. Throughout the movie, Butch and the Kid stop, look over their
shoulders and ask (at least four times), “Who are those guys?” One might say
that is the theme of the movie itself: Who are those guys? Which is pretty much
the heart of the issue for this week’s episode from Luke 9: 28-36, an episode
that is found in Matthew and Mark as well – Who is that guy? Who is this Jesus
anyway?
Much of the Christian Scriptures,
commonly referred to as the “New Testament,” can be seen as the attempts of a
diverse company of writers to tell us something of who Jesus is. This is not
the same as those who attempt to prove that Jesus did or did not exist – both
of which enterprises rise and fall on how they choose to map out the question
of “existence” - which seems by no means a settled category of argument in and
of itself.
This question of existence may
equally be applied to Homer, Socrates, the Buddha, Mohammed, and just about
every great, new and revolutionary figure in human history that made a point of
leaving no personal permanent record of their own “existence” - they wrote nothing themselves. The question very well might be, Do we
willingly wish to deprive ourselves of the great contributions made to the
understanding of what it means to be human, even what it means simply to Be,
just because we do or do not “believe” there is some verifiable human figure
behind the recorded lives and wisdom these figures and others represent?
It seems to me that the very fact
that someone will go to the heroic effort to deny their existence speaks
volumes about the persistence of their “existence” in human history! Their
influence continues to animate even their detractors. An astonishing
accomplishment for those said never to have existed at all, or who are made out
to be the mere fabrication of myth-makers and narcissistic cult devisors.
And then there are the efforts of
sincere folks like The Jesus Seminar and The Jesus Project which attempt to
extract “the Jesus of history” from the “Christ of tradition.” One has to hand it to the Jesus Project who
suspended their inquiry upon realizing that aside from a handful of
corroborating historical references “the tradition” is pretty much all we have
for Jesus. Leaving us with Luke’s solution to the problem of Jesus perhaps
being the best possible approach:
“And they kept silent and in those
days told no one any of the things they had seen.”
Really? Peter, James and John had
just witnessed their friend Jesus’ appearance change, his clothes turn dazzling
white, and suddenly two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him “of his
departure, which we was about to accomplish in Jerusalem.” Then came the voice:
“This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him. When the voice had spoken, Jesus was
found alone.” And we are meant to believe that they told no one – no one, not
one other person, any of the things they had seen?
Surely as they witnessed this
moment of transfiguration, an episode read the Last Sunday after the Epiphany
each year, AND on the Feast of the Transfiguration every August 6 – the latter
turning out to be an auspicious convergence of reading about Jesus turning
dazzling, flashing white now recalled on the day when the skies over Hiroshima
turned dazzling, flashing white, transfiguring not only the lives of hundreds
of thousands of people in that city, and those who planned and carried out the
attack, but also human history and the history of human warfare forever –
surely Peter, James and John were asking themselves, “Who is this guy?”
As sad a footnote to history as
has ever been wrought – to have one of the most transcendent events in human
history, witnessed by three subsequently mute characters, forever linked to one
of the most problematic events in human history, one which continues to haunt
and challenge human existence itself.
This brings us back to the
problem of “existence.” Any given day,
judging from seemingly random postings on Facebook, twitter and the vast array
of the blogasphere, most of us see existence as some kind of problem. So it was
back in the garden when the man and the woman, adam and adama, ate the
fruit of the tree and hid themselves. So it is today. Is the Jesus of the New
Testament at all different from the God in Genesis chapter 3, who, we are told,
in the cool of the evening was walking through the garden and calls out to
Adam, “Where are you?”
While we spend are countless
hours, days, months and years pondering Who is that guy, that guy continues to
intrude upon our hiding places and ask, “Where are you?” That’s the question
for all of us, isn’t it? Where are we? What are we doing? Why does it even
matter?
It matters because either God is
God, and we don’t do enough to acknowledge that with our lives. Or, God is not
God, and it is our fault. It must not be our fault. It is our privilege. A few
minutes silently contemplating where we are cannot only transfigure our own
countenance, but can make a difference in the lives of others and in the life
of the whole world.
Oh, Peter, James and John – did
they really say nothing to anyone about what they had seen and heard that day
on the mountain top with Jesus? And how does Luke know anyway? These remain
questions for another day. Right now we might content ourselves with the one
question that matters: Where are you?
Amen.
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