Sunday, February 11, 2018 – Last Sunday After the Epiphany

2 Kings 2:1-12 Psalm 50:1-6
2 Corinthians 4:3-6 Mark 9:2-9

Tide Ad Transfiguration

I’ll just come out and say it – the transfiguration is not a Tide Ad. I know it sounds like it… but it is not. Yet, when you think about, there are some serious similarities…

But before we go too far down that road, we’d better catch up those who may have missed the Super Bowl commercials last Sunday. First, in all fairness to those who courageously wore their Philadelphia gear last week in Patriots’ country, let me say congrats to the Eagles, who played a great game.

Now, about those Tide Detergent Ads, which received almost as much acclaim and coverage as the game. They were a series of ads all featuring David Harbour, the actor who plays Sheriff Jim Hopper in Stranger Things. Each one would open by setting us up for an ad we’ve come to recognize: the beach-y beer commercial, the luxury car commercial, the handsome man shaving in the razor commercial, (you get the picture), and then David Habour would interrupt and say, “It’s a Tide ad.” This happened a few times before he explained: “It’s a Tide ad. Because there are no stains. See how clean everything is?” And then he asks, “Does this mean that every ad for the Super Bowl is a Tide ad?”

You’ve got to admit, it’s brilliant marketing. Whenever any commercial starts, they’ve got us wondering if this is a real commercial or another Tide Ad. Effectively making every commercial a moment when people are thinking about Tide, no matter what product is being marketed. Changing the way we look at ALL the ads, making us think of their product no matter what is being marketed to us in that moment. Completely reframing all the Super Bowl commercials.

So, while the transfiguration is NOT a Tide Ad, it’s set up like that, isn’t it? Think about it – this moment on the mountain top is completely unexpected, and it’s meant to make the disciples see things differently; to reframe everything that comes after it in a new way. This story is placed here in the cycle of our lectionary, every year on the last Sunday of Epiphany – the last Gospel before Lent – for a reason. It’s meant to reframe all that comes after it.

This moment is about a shift in perception, and a great deal more really. And like an ad, the transfiguration is not the point, it’s a sign, pointing to something beyond itself. The transfiguration gets the attention of a handful of the disciples, and here in Mark’s Gospel it signifies the importance of all that will come next. It puts everything into context.

On the surface the point is a simple one – this is the Son of God, listen to him.

For the purpose of Mark’s Gospel, it’s a little more complicated. There are only three moments when Jesus’ unique identity is acclaimed clearly. The first happens at his baptism, and the last at his crucifixion. This moment of transfiguration is the third. All three are revelatory, with the curtain being drawn back from normal appearances, allowing us a glimpse of God behind them. Though, of these three epiphanies, our scene this morning may be the weirdest. It’s the least public, with only a few of

the disciples present; everything happens under the covering of clouds; and Jesus is the only one who is “transfigured:” transformed in clothing that is “dazzling white”. While we might be tempted to hear something like a detergent commercial, Mark’s community would hear it as an explicit cue that what’s happening here is other-worldly, of God and not of mortals. They know from Exodus, Numbers and the Psalms, that kind of radiance is God’s very essence. The book of Daniel is clear only those judged righteous “will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.” (Daniel 12:3) Jesus is shining like that – the way you would expect someone sent from God’s self to shine. Mark’s Gospel wants us to understand this reality beyond a shadow of a doubt. Here is Jesus, embodying what fellow Gospel writer John will later describe in the Fourth Gospel in his claims of Jesus: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:5) That kind of light, that kind of otherness… of God’s self, happening right before the disciples’ eyes. And their response is one of awe, hope, fear, power, possibility, and terror… quite the moment. And while they are terrorized, there comes a voice from the saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” This is the only time in Mark’s Gospel that the voice from heaven directs Jesus’ disciples.1 And the instruction is clear – “Listen to him!”

Here, at this turning point, with Jesus and the disciples about to head into the serious and confrontational ministry, all that will lead him to the cross; they need to know who he is. They are not following an itinerate preacher, a rabbi with some good ideas, a great healer, or a political or military leader who will overthrow their oppressors. They are following the beloved Son of God, through whom God’s self has entered the world as one of us, and through whom we will be reconciled to God’s self.

My Friends, it is the Son of God that we will follow into Lent. “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” What will we hear, if we do? Will it reframe our life, so that we see things differently, and come to see Jesus, the light of God, in unexpected places and people? Will we come to expect more of ourselves as well? In the light of the transfiguration, will we find our better selves? Those of us who have been part of this tradition for some time have come to look forward to Lent because it gives us a reason to hold ourselves to account. The Transfiguration is the moment just before; in a way, an invitation to Lent. A moment when God makes abundantly clear what God has done so that we are not alone in the world: “This is my Son, the Beloved.” And how we are to respond to that blindingly amazing, dazzling truth that reframes our life – “listen to him!” Live as if our lives have been changed by it. Live no longer for ourselves alone, but for Christ, and for those God loves, for the world for which God sacrifices everything to offer reconciliation, healing and restoration, and ultimately – salvation.

Offering a path for restoration to God and one another: “This is my Son, the beloved… listen to him!” I wonder, what will we hear in these coming days of Lent?

My Friends, may the light and love of this transfiguring moment catch us off guard, help us to see the light of Christ in unexpected people and places, and reframe our hearts toward God and one another in all the holy days ahead. Amen.

1 C. Clifton Black, Professor of Biblical Theology, Princeton Theological Seminary, Princeton, NJ, Commentary on Mark 9:2-9, Working Preacher, February 11, 2018.