Not Insects, but Buffalo! - Sermon for Feb. 19

A Sermon for the Last Sunday after the Epiphany (RCL B) 2-19-2012

Offered by Nathan Ferrell for Trinity Episcopal Shared Ministry

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

Themes:         transfiguration on the mountain, light shining in darkness, new vision
Title:               Not Insects, but Buffalo!

In the 1950’s, an African Pygmy named Kenge took his first trip out of the dense tropical rainforest that was his home. He was taken out onto the broad savannah plains of Tanzania. Far in the distance across the savannah was a herd of Cape buffalo. They appeared as small black specks against the bright sky. The pygmy man stared at the buffalo in the distance, then turned to the anthropologist accompanying him, and asked, “What kind of insects are those?”

When the anthropologist replied that those were not insects, but rather were buffalo, Kenge roared in laughter and told the anthropologist that he should not tell such stupid lies.

(Daniel Gilbert, Stumbling on Happiness, 2006.)

This western anthropologist was not stupid and he was not lying.

You see, before this moment, this pygmy man Kenge had spent his entire life on the floor of the thick rainforest, where he had never been able to see more than just a few feet in front of him, let alone all the way to the horizon.

His brain had never processed an image of something that was miles away, and so he had no way of perceiving the reality that something as large as a buffalo – an animal 10 feet long and averaging 1600 lbs of muscle - could appear so small due to the diminishing effect of distance.

My dear friends: you and I are African pygmies! No, no, not in the make-up of our bodies. But we are like the African pygmies at least when it comes to our spiritual vision!

But if it makes you feel any better, so were all of the apostles. So were Peter, James and John!  

Like those peasant fishermen, we live our entire lives within the thick jungle of experiences which constitute a normal human life. Dishes and bills and house repairs and dirty diapers and work and school and illnesses and sore feet and headaches.

Our brains have never processed an image of reality from God’s point of view. We don’t even know to see divine things. It’s like Peter up there on the mountain: “OK, Lord, I guess you and Moses and Elijah will need someplace to stay.” And what kind of insects are those?

Peter had no way to process what he was seeing. It was beyond anything that he had ever glimpsed.

This is why, I think, the Lord took his closest friends up on the mountain with him. Until this point, his time with them had been very, very busy. Sailing across the lake, catching fish, feeding thousands of people, being surrounded by huge crowds who all wanted something from Jesus.

It felt a lot like their ordinarily very busy lives. It was different, of course, living with the Messiah, but they were still walking with him through the thick rainforest jungle.

But here they are taken out onto the savannah for the first time in their lives.

Above and beyond and around the crowded busyness of their lives, there was a luminous divine reality that Peter and James and John had never yet glimpsed. They believed in the reality of God’s kingdom, but they had no way to imagine in their minds what the reality of God’s kingdom actually looked like. Until this trip up to the mountain top.

This Gospel reading appointed for today begins with a mistake.

For some reason, those who decide such matters chose to start with verse 2 and to leave out verse one, which is the actual opening of this scene. Verse one says this:

Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see that the kingdom of God has come with power.”

And then the text goes on to say that six days after this announcement is when the Lord takes Peter and James and John up the mountain and allows them to see the hidden, powerful reality of the kingdom of God.

What they are allowed to see there upon the mountain is not some isolated, dramatic experience, but it is rather a vision of what the life of Jesus is truly like and of what their lives could be like when they are lived in connection with him.

All of this has to do with sanctifying our imagination. The gospel allows us to see a different future – one that is different from our current reality. When we can see this possibility, we have hope. But what is more astounding is the truth that this good future is already growing even now in our midst! 

Countless scientific studies have shown that we human beings are most likely to imagine the future based upon what we are experiencing in the present. Think about how people felt about real estate values back in 2006 and remember what advice you were hearing then from various financial advisors. Do you think they ever imagined such huge drops in home values in such a short time?

Now consider this: Alexander Graham Bell, the man who invented the first practical working telephone in 1876, once spoke these words to a reporter who was interviewing him: "It may sound cocky of me, Sir, but I foresee the day when there will be a telephone in every town in America!" Do you think he could have ever imagined a time when there was a phone on every person in America?

It is a fact that our imaginations most typically are entirely bound by our past memories and by our present experiences. But God desires us to see, and to imagine, much, much more.  

We’ve seen the limits of our ability to perceive what is beyond our normal experience. Now consider this example of a sanctified imagination.

There’s a story that was told by the southern slaves of former years. In this story, a young slave woman is standing in the hot field, working, harvesting the crop. The overseer is brutally whipping another slave nearby. Already in this woman’s short life, she has seen too much pain.

She breaks down right then. She drops down and cries out, “I can’t take it any more. I can’t take it any more. I wanna die!”

But old man nearby hears her cry out and calls to her and says, “Don’t die, baby. Don’t die. Get dressed up and come with me.”

“So I got dressed up,” she reported, “and I went with him. You shoulda seen me, dressed up in the finest dress! We walked together and we walked right over into hell, and right there I spit on the devil! And then we walked straight into heaven, right before the throne of God! Everyone was there and we was having a grand time, dancing and singing and laughing.”

“But then, all a’sudden, the whip hit my back – CRACK – and I looked up, and there was the master standing over me, ready to whip me some more.”

“But I laughed with secret laughter, because he had the whip, but I had all the advantage!”

 St. Paul wrote that “the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ” (2 Corinthians 4:4).

But I think that this blindness can afflict all of us, when we see things only as they appear to our eyes, and not with our faith-inspired imaginations.

Look at what we do today in the sacrament of baptism. You can look and see only a baby and some water and oil and a candle, and you can see a pleasant little opportunity for a family to get together and take some nice pictures and have a good memory (something to fill up pages in Luke’s baby book).

Or you can look with the eyes of faith and see something powerful and majestic and eternal – the light of the risen Lord touching the young soul of this baby boy. You can hear vows that are made before the very throne of God. And you can imagine all of the saints and the angels of God – all those beings of radiant goodness – rejoicing that the door of new and abundant life has been opened now for Luke.

What about in your life? Have you been able to glimpse the kingdom of God at work beyond and above and around all of the activities of your daily life? May it always be so that the eyes of your heart are able to see the light of the glory of God as it is revealed in the face of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Reflected in a Mirror

Sermon for Last Epiphany C RCL 2/14/2010, Offered by Nathan Ferrell for Trinity Episcopal Shared Ministry

Texts: Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2; Luke 9:28-43
Themes: transfiguration, summit and valley, the veil of Moses
Purpose: to teach, to encourage
Title: Reflected in a Mirror

Today, my friends, on this last Sunday of the season of Epiphany, we celebrate Transfiguration Sunday. All of the readings today coalesce with laser-like focus around this one theme. Moses climbs Mount Sinai and encounters God directly. This experience causes his face to shine with such brilliance that the people of Israel cannot look at his face. A veil is required for him to wear before he can speak with the people.

In his Second Letter to the Corinthians, Paul interprets this veil of Moses in a negative way: not as a guard to protect the people, but rather as a barrier that prevents the people from seeing the glory of God.


















In the Gospel of Luke, we hear of this enigmatic episode when Jesus climbs up the mountain to pray. There he encounters the Father directly. Like Moses, this experience caused his face to shine with dazzling brilliance. And suddenly, without warning or explanation, Moses and Elijah join him there.

Why Moses and Elijah?

You may remember that Elijah also climbed Mt. Sinai, in imitation of Moses’ effort, in order to speak directly with the Lord (1 Kings 19). In his despair over the faithlessness of his people and the wickedness of their rulers, it seems that Elijah did not know what else to do or where else to go. In Elijah’s world, if one needs to hear directly from God, then one goes to Mt. Sinai. There God spoke to Elijah in a quiet voice, giving him a clear command to return to the people of Israel and to renew the covenant.

Let us think for a few minutes about the importance of the presence of Moses and Elijah on the mountain with the Lord. It’s quite shocking, really. It’s the most amazing aspect of this episode, in my opinion. There is no precedent for people in the Bible meeting with the dead saints of old to discuss current affairs. There is nothing that would prepare us as readers or as hearers of this story so that we can say, “Oh yes, of course. Moses and Elijah are there. That makes perfect sense!”

It doesn’t make any sense at all, honestly. But even though it’s surprising and unexpected, I think it tells us something important.

Paul wrote these words: “All of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor. 3:18). And so I ask you this: who else functions as the mirrors reflecting the glory of God to the world except for the saints, those who with love and dedication and perseverance have purified their hearts?

Is it by accident that at the very moment when the true glory of the Lord Jesus is most clearly revealed on this earth that Moses and Elijah are there to share in, and to reflect, that glory?

One casualty of the modern scientific worldview which shapes the worldview around us is our ability to perceive and appreciate the presence of those who have gone before us.

Our brothers and sisters in the Greek and Eastern Orthodox traditions have been better able to maintain in their liturgies a deeper sense of this abiding presence of the saints. Whenever there is a lectionary reading attributed to one of the biblical saints, a prayer is typically added for the saints’ blessing. For example: “A reading from St. Paul’s 2nd Letter to the Corinthians: May his blessing be upon us.” Or, “A reading from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel: May his blessing be upon us.”

It’s a small turn of phrase, but small additions such as these suggest that they grow out of a different perspective on our relationship with our ancestors in the faith. Why not, I wonder, ask for St. Paul’s blessing when we are called to read one of his writings?

“Since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses,” of which St. Paul is an important part, does it not make sense to refer to him as if he is truly alive today in the Lord, and not simply as a historical figure of the past?

Coming directly out of the great cloud of witnesses, Moses and Elijah met with Jesus upon the mountain. In no way do I suggest that we can expect to have that same level of interaction with the saints of old. Our Lord lived in unique intimacy with the Father. Our goal is to achieve that same kind of intimacy with God, but for all of us, that will always remain a goal in the distance.

But even if we are not yet ready to experience this depth of connection to the spiritual world, to the heavens, which surround us at all times, is it not right and good for us to at least act as if this is in fact the truth? To at least think about the saints and prophets of old as they truly are, as living members of the Church today?

The Church has always had this goal, but we swim upstream against culture and the numbing effects of time in attempting to maintain our consciousness. For instance, in all of the apostolic churches, the clergy serving at the altar wear this white robe which we call an alb, and over it we wear the colored cloak which we call a chasuble. Why do we wear such things?

Do you know that this alb is nothing different from the ordinary under-garments of those living in Roman times? I guess today it is equivalent to a pair of sweat-pants or jeans and a t-shirt. And do you know that this chasuble which I will put on after the Offertory is nothing else but a rain poncho that Roman citizens wore to protect themselves from the weather?

So why then did the Church have the clergy continue to wear these clothes, when they were nothing but ordinary, every-day clothing? It’s because the first martyrs of the Church stood before the rulers and authorities in these clothes and made their confession of faith in Jesus! It’s because the first martyrs of the Church died wearing ordinary clothing such as these. And we want to look like them. We want to dress like them. It’s because they are our honored ancestors in the faith, and when we think of what it means to be faithful and true and pure in heart, we want to look and act and think as they did.

When Jesus went up the mountain to pray, he took Peter and James and John, and he met Moses and Elijah there.

The great Jewish teacher of the 20th century, Abraham Joshua Heschel, had this to say about prayer in the Bible: “It is not safe to pray alone. Tradition insists that we pray with, and as a part of, the community” (Man’s Quest for God, p. 45).

Maybe our Teacher, our Guide, sets us an example here. That at this moment of prayer when he is most connected to the power and light and glory of the Father, he is surrounded by saints and apostles and prophets. He is not alone. And we are never alone. Never are we separated from them: from their prayers, from their presence, from their witness. The death of the body is not strong enough to break the bonds which God has created in the Church. Praise be to God that Moses and Elijah stood on the mountain in witness to this truth. Amen.