If you were here last week, you’ll remember that we considered the call of four of Jesus’ disciples – Simon Peter and Andrew, James and John – three of whom accompany Jesus in today’s Gospel story.  However, there’s a big time-gap in-between last week’s text and this one.  About three years or so have passed since those fishermen – and a tax-collector – and some other ordinary folks – left their homes and families, left everything they knew, in order to follow Jesus.

For three years, these three men in today’s story have walked hot, dusty roads with him, slept out under the stars, shared a few olives and a piece of bread for their supper, have sometimes been welcomed and sometimes driven out of towns they visited.  They have heard his sermons … seen him provide meals for crowds of thousands … watched him restore sight to the blind, and hearing to the deaf.  By now, Jesus is no longer the total stranger he was in last week’s story, but has become their teacher … their fellow-traveller … their friend. 

            And according to Matthew’s gospel, they are now nearing the end of their time together.  Very soon, they will all head for Jerusalem, where Jesus will face his death on a cross.  And so, at this point in time, they are already worried and uncertain and afraid, as he takes them up to the top of a mountain, and sits them down on the rough stones there …

            And a very peculiar thing happens.

            First, the story says, Jesus’ appearance suddenly changes:  “His face shone as brightly as the sun, and his garments became as white as the light itself.”  This ragged, tired man, feet dirty from the dust of the roads, robe grubby from the grime of sitting on rocks and on the decks of fishing-boats, probably not having bathed for weeks – suddenly lights up and his face and clothing shine as brightly as the sun!

            That alone was pretty astonishing, but more was to come.  Suddenly – instead of just the four of them sitting there, they see and hear Moses and Elijah – two prophets and heroes of the Old Testament who have been dead for hundreds of years– right there with them, talking with Jesus.  It’s no wonder that both Gospel accounts of this event tell us that Peter and James and John were overcome with fear, and that they threw themselves flat on the ground on their faces in terror!

            And then Peter jumps up … good old Peter … perhaps my favorite disciple of them all, because he reminds me so much of myself, and my own faith struggles … Peter’s the guy who never quite gets it … he’s the one who, when something surprising happens, jumps in and says something that usually ends up being so wrong, so out of place that Jesus uses it as an example of what-not-to-say or what-not-to-do … he’s the guy who really wants to do the right thing, but because faith can be so confusing sometimes, he so often gets it wrong … as he does this time.

            Scared nearly to death – perhaps overcome with astonishment – with incredulity – with awe – Peter rushes in where angels fear to tread and in response to the remarkable things that have just happened, he offers to do something right then and there!  He says to Jesus, “if you wish, rabbi, I’ll gather some sticks and mud, and build three booths – or dwellings – or shrines – right here, one for you, and one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

            Now, scholars in the centuries since have done a lot of speculating about the meaning of these three “booths” or “dwellings.”  They’ve wondered whether they refer back in some way to the Jewish Festival of Booths – sukkoth, which you’ll remember we celebrated here last fall with our sukkoth booth (sukkah).  Or whether those suggested booths were Peter’s way of trying to construct some kind of spiritual bomb-shelter … After all, he is seeing two men who have been dead for centuries, apparently alive and well and talking to his teacher and friend … and he has seen Jesus’ face and person change completely and alarmingly … and he is any second going to hear the voice of God speak … so it wouldn’t be surprising if Peter had thought the end of the world – long predicted – had in fact arrived … and he wanted to do something – anything – to keep himself (and maybe his friends) safe from whatever is about to happen.

            We really don’t know what the three booths are about … and we can’t know.  But the point may be irrelevant.  Maybe what’s really important here is simply the fact that Peter – in response to wonder – to fear – to uncertainty – wants to do something – anything … because he knows – as a man who has worked with his hands all his life – that doing something concrete – making something happen – can give you a sense of control in a world where things aren’t making a whole lot of sense.

            Let’s stop a minute, and think about our world today.  Here in the U.S., the economy is spiraling in ways that make little or no sense to most of us … one day the market is sharply up … the next it’s sharply down … Federal interest-rates have been cut sharply, although the actual effects that will have for most of us are completely unclear.  Young men and women in the U.S. military are putting their lives on the line every day – and some of them are losing their lives – half a world away – in pursuit of national goals that no longer appear to be very clear, even to those who strongly support the war.  Nearly daily, in our “Daily Sentinel” as well as in newspapers across the country scientists and journalists and politicians and ordinary citizens debate fiercely about whether global warming is a myth or a reality, and in either case, what that means for our environment and for our world.  And, we face a national election this coming Fall (and more imminently, a statewide caucus on Tuesday evening) in which, as we consider the various candidates, many of us can’t help but wonder, can any of them help put things right in our country?  In short, my friends, we live in a world where things seem more and more out of control, and where we, and most people we know, are experiencing more and more anxiety and fear and confusion.

            And in the midst of all that, how do most of us respond?  A whole lot like Peter. 

            We find – or create – new things to do to take our minds off what’s happening that we don’t understand … we start participating in on-line chat-rooms … or take up paint-ball as a hobby … or jump into Texas Hold ‘Em Poker tournaments … We take more and more medications to control our blood pressure … our anxiety … our depression – when the real problem is not in our bodies, but in our world … And we buy more and more stuff – stuff we may not really need, but that is bigger, and brighter, and shinier than the stuff we already have, and that we keep hoping against hope will take our minds off what we’re really most worried and anxious about … surely, reading all the consumer information, and making a decision about whether to get a plasma-screen or a hi-def TV, or whether or not buying a hybrid auto really makes sense, or whether or not to get our kid or grandkid the new “extreme skiing” accessory to go with their Wii set is better than worrying and fretting about an economy – or a war – or a national government that we don’t feel like we can do much about.

            Whew!  Even thinking about all that makes me feel spiritually out-of-breath and exhausted … and I’ll bet it does you, too.  Surely, we think, surely there’s something we can do to fix all this.  Surely there’s something our faith can suggest that will help us deal with all this out-of-control craziness.  And there is … but like other aspects of our faith, this one may seem kind of counter-intuitive.  Because in this case, one possible faithful response is not to do more … but to do less … not to do something, but to stand there quietly instead … to do what the Psalmist in today’s reading is encouraging us to do:  to wait in silence for our God … to do what the prophet, speaking for God, encourages us to do:  “Be still, and know that I am God.”

            Now admittedly, we do spend a lot of time in church – especially in the United Church of Christ – reflecting on the many actions that our faith calls us to.  Things like reading and studying Scripture.  And caring for other people.  And volunteering at the Shelter, or at the Soup Kitchen or at the hospital.  And attending worship.  And working for justice.  And those are all very good things to do.  But there’s another side to our faith-life as well. 

            In fact, it may be one of the not-so-subtle messages in this story from Matthew.  If you go back and read it again, you’ll notice that as soon as good old Peter jumps up with his can-do, will-do attitude, immediately … immediately he is interrupted by God’s voice … God’s voice that echoes out of the cloud, saying, “This is my Beloved Son… listen to him!”  It may be stretching the story a bit, but it’s almost as if God is responding by saying, “Chill out, Peter … don’t get up and go running around doing things … stop … breathe for a second … take some time … pay attention to what’s really going on … just listen for awhile.”

            “Transfiguration” – as in today’s Transfiguration story – as in today being Transfiguration Sunday – is about God revealing God’s self to humankind.  And in our Gospel story today, it’s not Jesus who is changed by this, but the disciples who are.  They truly understand, perhaps for the first time, what it means for God to come to humankind in human form – in the form of this man they have been following and learning from for the last three years.  They truly understand, perhaps for the first time, that God is real, and that God is with them in the world.

And God revealed God’s self – and God reveals God’s self – not just once, 2,000 years ago in the person of Jesus – but over and over through every day that every person lives, including us.  But unless we deliberately slow down … unless we stop … unless we create some silence around ourselves … unless we look and listen with eyes and ears and hearts that are open to wonder … we’re going to miss it. 

            And so, historically, alongside the many practices of spiritual action, people of faith are also called to its opposite … what we might call spiritual “non-action” … taking time out from our normal busyness … practicing silence … practicing deep attention … stopping … looking … listening … and wondering.  So that we too can see God when God appears in the middle of our beautiful, awful, exciting, distressing, very real world. 

            And so I encourage you, as we move into the season of Lent in this next week, to consider trying a different sort of Lenten practice this year.  Instead of doing something for Lent … I encourage you to try not doing something for Lent.  I encourage you to pay attention ... to the meaning of the season.  To pay attention … to the journey of the spirit in this part of the year.  To be with and in the season … rather than trying to accomplish some kind of spiritual goal. 

            We have tall mountains here in Western Colorado – so, drive up or hike up and sit on the top of one of them and wait awhile.  Sit on your back porch, and watch the clouds.  Really taste the food you eat, really touch the softness of newly-washed laundry, really see the shining eyes of a friend.  Watch for holy moments, and wait for the mystery of God … and if you’re still enough, you’ll notice it when it presents itself.

            My friends, we, too, can be transfigured.  Now.  Today.  Tomorrow.  And when Easter arrives, who knows what kind of new people we will have discovered ourselves – with God’s help – to be?  Amen.