When I was ordained to the priesthood, someone told me a
saying I often think about. It goes like this: “For the first year after
ordination, the priest is afraid of the altar. After that, the altar is afraid
of the priest.” The newly ordained priest is aware of taking on a new role:
saying things he’s never said, doing things he’s never done. He’s very aware of
the people, watching what he does. But more than anything, he is very, very
aware of the awesome mystery which takes place through his hands and voice. The
King of all comes invisibly upborne by the angelic hosts.
After a year or so, it can become familiar, comfortable…routine.
He will be tempted to change little things, to become perfunctory in his
performance. And so the altar grows afraid of him. Every so often, when he
least expects it, he remembers the hidden reality. You will know those times,
when you see him weep a little.
I thought of that saying when I read today’s Gospel
lesson, the account of the Transfiguration of our Lord and God and Savior Jesus
Christ. After the radiance, after Moses and Elijah speak with Christ, after the
luminous cloud, after the voice of the Father saying, “This is my beloved Son—listen
to him!”—after all that, Peter, James, and John fell to the ground. Then it was
that Christ touched them and said, “Get up. Don’t be afraid.”
Now we misread Christ’s words if we think they mean that
fear isn’t part of our faith. In a few minutes you will hear the priest say, “With
the fear of God, in faith and love draw near.” St. Paul wrote, “Knowing the
fear of the Lord, we persuade men.” Every single time, throughout the holy
Scriptures, when someone encounters the living God his first reaction is to be
afraid. Solomon tells us “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” and
even the wise thief on the cross asked his companion who reviled Christ, “Don’t
you fear God?” It is ours to fear; it is God’s to tell us, “Don’t be afraid.”
When Christ’s words “Don’t be afraid” become unnecessary, there is something
seriously wrong.
Well might the three disciples fear. For in this life,
and before the Resurrection, they beheld the hidden glory of Christ made
manifest. They saw and heard Moses and Elijah. They entered the bright cloud
and heard the voice of the Father. Say what you want about Veggie Tales, but
when Christianity becomes all about tomatoes and cucumbers telling us to be
good people, it’s no longer Christianity. God did not become man to make us
good; he became man to make us God—to share his own divine splendor. And at
Christ’s return, he will not take us to some immaterial place. This
world will be transfigured in the radiant cloud of the Spirit, and the voice of
the Father will direct us to his Son.
The disciples had reason to fear, too, because of what lay
ahead. When they came down from the mountain, they were heading toward
Jerusalem and the cross. There they would see this radiant Lord naked, bloodied
and bruised, pierced by nails and a spear. Instead of a bright cloud, there
would be thick darkness. Instead of the Father’s voice, there would be silence.
Instead of life, there would be death. When they beheld Christ’s suffering,
they would understand that the one being crucified was the Lord of Glory.
We
mark the Transfiguration of Christ today because today is forty days before the
Exaltation of the Precious and Life-giving Cross. For us, the rest of summer is
marked by remembrance of Christ’s suffering for us.
And
today is a big day in the life of Holy Cross. After liturgy, we will take a
vote on whether to move from these cramped but comfy surroundings to a new
place, with a new set of challenges. As the priest who started out this journey
with some of you at a Lutheran church, and others of you at a school, and still
others in these four walls, I want to tell you two things: First, be afraid.
And second, don’t be afraid.
Fear
God. It doesn’t matter what you want, or what I want. It matters what his will
is. We don’t pray, “My plans be done,” but “Thy will be done.” Churches get off
the rails when they try to tell God how to do his business. Learn from the
Theotokos. When she said, “Whatever he says, do it,” to the servants at Cana,
she was speaking from experience and teaching us how to live.
Don’t
fear anything else. Don’t fear the distance, if we move. The drive would be
longer for some, but we are united in love for God and each other. No one will
be left behind. Distance is but an opportunity to show our love for those most
affected. Don’t fear the future, if we stay. He who makes all things out of
nothing, knows our needs more than we do. He will provide.
Following
Christ means carrying a cross. So let us heed Moses and Elijah. Let us listen
to the Father as he says, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him!” Listen to
him in fear as he tells you, “Don’t be afraid.” He will never fail us. He will
never forsake us.
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