I was reminded, last Sunday while watching the Super Bowl, of how we are, myself included, a people afflicted with spectatoritis. We’ve developed a sport for every season. But it’s not only sports–televison has convinced us that we don’t have to walk out of the room, out of the house, to see all kinds of things that titillate the senses. All we have to do is use our eyes and possibly our ears.

What this amounts to is that people, most of them tied down to dull routine, want thrills; even if they’re only vicarious, substitute thrills. And the more thrills the better.

So you’re watching a football game with a Bud Lite, you’re getting away, if only momentarily, from the boredom of life, the rotten routine, the deadening dullness. Life’s pretty much of a drag, so bring on the thrills. The more the better; until we run out of thrills to invent, and what then?

For about three years the disciples of Jesus had followed him around, hearing him preach, talking to him privately, assisting him in what was, by human standards, not much of a ministry. A few people here and there caught the vision but really his numerical success would have looked pretty bad on the average congregations’s evangelism report. And coupled with a few successes and a whole lot of failures was the boredom, the routine of it all. Oh, every once in a while there was a thrill; a miracle here, a sign there. Turning water into wine (that was super!), the deaf and the blind healed. But all in all, what with the religious leaders and many of the people turning against Jesus, there wasn’t a big “kick” left in following the Nazarene.

Then came the Transfiguration toward the end of Jesus’ ministry, as he was about to go to Jerusalem and get himself hanged on a cross. The Transfiguration–what a thrill! Worth all those tedious days and miserable nights. Better than a tie game in the last of the ninth or with 2
thirty seconds showing on the scoreboard. “We were getting disgusted, Lord, “ says Peter. “Things were getting discouraging or, at best, monotonous. Nothing was really happening. But this!–this makes up for it. What excitement! What a thrill to see that you really aren’t like other men. We took a chance on getting our religious kicks by observing you and you were beginning to let us down. Now it’s all different, what with your face like the sun and your clothes all white. It’s good to be here. Let’s stay. Let’s not worry about anyone else. Let’s just stay and drown ourselves in all this glory, immerse ourselves in this supreme religious thrill. It’s good to be here.”

That’s what Peter wanted–religious thrills. Permanent ones. And that’s often what we want. Word and sacrament? Dullsville. I can have that every day of the week and twice on Sunday. That’s not much a thrill anymore. “Show us your glory, Lord. That’s what we want to see. We’re up against the wall, we Christians, these days. The world is beginning to doubt our credibility. We not turning people on with the message anymore. So we struggle with new approaches and different methods. And for a time we get a little excited, but it wears off. And then it’s back to the same old things: halfheartedness, failures, budget cuts, reports that look more dismal each year.

“Now, Lord, if you could just show us your glory–just once–why, it would do wonders for our morale. We’d show those doubters and scoffers a thing or two. And it would make our own feelings less apathetic. We’d have something to go on then, Lord. Give us a thrill, even if it’s only temporary. Something we can remember and fall back on when the going gets rough.” I imagine quite a number of marriages have been saved simply because couples lived on the memory of those initial thrills; what it was like back then, back in the honeymoon days, the days of wine and roses.

The Transfiguration is certainly a high point in the earthly life of Jesus. It was a kind of sneak preview for the disciples. Before the final events of Jesus’ life and ministry, Peter, James and John get a glimpse not only of Jesus’ final destiny but also of theirs. It was no doubt a supreme thrill– for them. But it has not been given to us; not in the same way.

Oh, Christ is transfigured alright–but in reverse. Instead of glory, shame. Instead of domination, servanthood. Instead of a throne, a cross. If you’re looking for Jesus Christ, don’t go climbing up the mount of transfiguration. Try another mountain: Calvary. If you’re looking for brass bands and red carpets, forget it. Try the loneliness and suffering of the Man of Sorrows. If you’re looking for a cross of gold and jewels you will find, instead, a crown of thorns. If you’re looking for a face that shines like the sun, you will see the dark countenance of sorrow and death. If you’re looking for white garments try the seamless robe of a crucified criminal who lost it to a gambling band of soldiers.

For the search for Jesus Christ is the search for a transfigured Christ in reverse. No cheap thrills, but the sound of derision and mockery, the sight of blood and tears, and the smell of death. Sure, we have had and probably will have mountaintop religious experiences. But that’s not really where it’s at. Because those disciples had to come off that mountain rather quickly. They had their memories, yes, but what really kept them going after that was the voice out of the cloud which said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” Listen to the man who doesn’t show his glory but his humility who is now on his way to Jerusalem and death. But with death there will come resurrection, nad everything is tied up in these things–for you and for all those who will come after you.

We don’t find Jesus Christ and the meaning of life on the mountaintops of cheap religious thrills. We find Jesus Christ in his word and promise, something pretty dull and routine for the tastes of modern folks. We find him as we gather at his table to share simple bread and wine. . . and there he is, his sun-like face and shiny garments reduced to the common stuff of life. As Malle, the mad woman in the novel, Man on a Donkey, says, “Think of it. . .! God in a bit of bread, come to bring morning into the darkness of our bellies.” A transfiguration in reverse.

The New Testament is very clear on this, too, that we find Christ in our sisters and brothers, who are also his sisters and brothers. And the transfiguration in reverse goes on. For our sisters and brothers are often in the slums and ghettos of this life, down in the valleys of hopelessness and despair; not on the glorious mountaintops of the “good life.” It is not a religious thrill to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and open our mouths for the oppressed and work for justice and human welfare. It’s not glamorous and mountaintoppy, but it’s where Christ is. And it should be where we are.

We rarely see the glorious Christ. If we have a mountaintop experience now and then, well and good. But don’t aim for it. Aim rather to go with Jesus down into the valley of human need and, like Paul, be crucified with Christ. Then, too, you rise with Christ in the daily resurrection of new life with the heavenly Father–now, and in the eternity to come.

Amen.