Transfiguration, Year B, 2.19.12
Last June, Alene and I had an adventure! We decided to spend a week walking about 100 km or 70 miles of the Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela, in Spain. The first day that we struck out was a Sunday. We were supposed to walk thirty kilometers that day, or about 20 miles, and we began at a leisurely pace climbing the hills out of Orense, a town near the Spanish/Portuguese border. As the day continued, we were hot and thirsty and realized that, since it was Sunday, there were almost no cafes open to eat or refresh ourselves. So that day we were invited inside by not one, but two households. One man fed us cheese, wine and water and sardines, and seemed amused that we thought we would make it all the way to Piñor, not stopping in the traditional stop of Cea.
Another couple lent us their restroom, gave us fruit and a big bottle of flavored sparkling water that was like nectar. We made it to Cea and, travel weary, ate some yummy sandwiches and had a soda, wondering if we could make it across the hills to the next town.
But our luggage and our hotel were planned—we had to try! So we called to say we would be late. We made it almost 7 km more before we called our host to pick us up in the nearby town—neither of us could walk a step more—after about 16 miles we were exhausted and blisters were blooming on Alene’s feet. One of the traditional rules of the Camino was that you walk every step, but we learned that day that everyone’s Camino is different. We needed to walk what we could, and rely on the kindness of strangers for the rest.
Later we would learn that it was much more about the simple kindnesses we experienced along the road than arriving at glorious Santiago. As much as we all want to go to heaven, the Christian life is a bit like that, too, it’s much more about the company we keep on the way, and the journey, not the destination.
This Lent, I invite you to journey with me on a camino of your own undertaking. Through our Wednesday night Lenten study series on pilgrimage as a metaphor for the Christian journey, I invite you to reflect on your life’s journey as well as your faith journey. How has God accompanied you on that journey?
The stories we heard today of Elijah and Elisha and of the Transfiguration speak to our journey with God, as they talk about the different lessons we learn on our faith and life journeys.
One thing about the journey of life is that it changes us. Many of you have moved from spot to spot with the armed forces or with your employment, or for family reasons, and you know what it is to be marked by the change in landscape, as well as how that affects your identity. We are transfigured by the journeys we take, and so were Elijah and Elisha.
On our journeys, we visit great spots—Elijah and Elisha visited Gilgal, the place where the Israelites camped after crossing the Jordan. They went to Jericho, the site of a military victory, and to the Jordan river, a place that has held so much meaning throughout history.[1] We, too will visit places that inspire us. Can you not be changed by visiting the Grand Canyon? Or the Pacific Ocean?
But the other side of this story is that big things often happen in lesser-known places. Elijah’s ascension happens in an un-named spot, because it’s not the place that matters, but the event.[2] In other words, it’s about the journey, not the destination.
Not only that, but there are other lessons we can draw from the journey. Elisha is a model of faithfulness and companionship. Your companions for the journey are so important, and Elisha says he will stay with Elijah, even though he knows the road might be hard at times and he might end up alone.[3] Those who have had the courage to commit to one person for the rest of their lives know the courage that this takes.
But the journey’s not all about faithfully companioning. No, it’s also about asking for what you want. Elisha clearly asks for what he wants—a double portion. [4] He goes on to become quite the spiritual leader in his own right, and that might be because he has the courage to ask for his heart’s desire.
Another aspect to the journey we take is that sometimes grief comes before growth. Before Elisha experiences his moment in the sun, he loses his wise mentor and friend in Elijah.[5] We will be separated from those we love on the journey eventually. But God will remain a constant companion on the way.
This sense of grief before glory leads me to the cross.
Because after Jesus has introduced the concept of his suffering and death to his disciples, the Transfiguration happens on a journey, and often life-changing, transfiguring events happen on journeys. The temptation is to stay there, in that moment, just like the disciples with the booths, but you must head on.
We know we will have the cross ahead, just like now when we look toward the beginning of Lent, but the transfiguration reminds us that GOD is in charge, so ultimately, as Julian of Norwich says, “all will be well.”
Now, back the journey theme, a popular term for a journey we often take during Lent is the Stations of the Cross, or the Via Crucis, the way of the Cross.
We take this journey to remember the journey Christ first went to the Cross, which we know was not the end of the story. It can also help us go through dark moments and carry our own cross, because we know there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
In Lent, walking this Via Crucis with Jesus, we have the advantage over the disciples—we already know, at least in theory, what it’s all about—we have been told about the risen Christ. We know about our salvation. But perhaps, keeping the cross in mind this Lent, we can re-visit the glory once more—not just the shining face of the transfigured Christ, but a glimpse at the resurrection, and the promise it brings. And all along, we can remember, in the companionship, grief and joy of our travels, it’s about the journey as much as the destination.
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