It can be hard to listen
Epiphany Last C | Luke 9:28-36, [37-43a]
When Jesus takes these three disciples up a mountain with him, what do you think they’re thinking about? They don’t know the Transfiguration is going to happen, of course. This is all so new. Everything, in fact, is new. Do you suppose they think they’re special? Probably, right? Singled out for time with Jesus the rest don’t get?
We might wonder what they’ve done to deserve this. And that’s how we’d phrase it, too. Because we think there is a question of merit here. And reward. The most deserving will get served by the system. That tends to be how we like to think of things in the U.S., regardless of whether it is true or not.
As Christians, though, such ideas should give us pause, shouldn’t they? Merit really isn’t a thing, nor is reward for that matter, since the first will be last and the last will be first. The most deserving in the Kin-dom are the ones least likely to get it in our world. So, in a sense, this might be special attention because Peter, James, and John need the attention. That’s far closer to how Jesus operates, anyway.
And if we step back for a moment and consider how the concept of merit opens the door to assumptions we shouldn’t make — then perhaps we might consider assumptions that the disciples make — that Jesus isn’t actually saying. They are assuming.
A Lost Hypothesis
I don’t want us to get caught up in making the same assumptions. So let’s simply consider the possibilities. The possibility of feeling special and the rest, perhaps, might be feeling neglected.
The lectionary reminds us of Moses’s face shining today, but they could just as easily offered the sequence about Moses going up the mountain for a few days and the people being so freaked out, assuming he’s abandoned them forever, that after a couple of days they decide to melt down gold and form it into an idol. That’s just as fitting a story.
This fear of abandonment, of being left out, is so strong, people of every age tend to miss the trust and faith Jesus has in the people. As Jesus will teach in a parable a few chapters after this,
“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?”
— Luke 15:4
The people, all of us, are going to be fine — we’re OK when we’re together! This one, or these three, perhaps they are the ones in need. Dare we acknowledge that 99% of the time we are not the one?
The Contrast
Jesus takes James, John, and Peter up the mountain and they see a spectacular event in which Jesus is transfigured, a long-dead prophet and the leader of the Exodus appear with him, and nobody knows what to do. Peter assumes they are supposed to do something, which doesn’t seem like an assumption Jesus thinks he should make.
And then, when they come down the mountain, they discover the rest of the Twelve are unable to help a man heal his son.
As much as the part of the story on the mountain top reveals great glory, it is this part, at the foot of the mountain, that reveals such human pain and finitude. The father is desperate. Jesus seems frustrated. And the disciples are probably feeling dejected.
There’s a real contrast between the mountaintop and its bottom, the special time with Jesus for these three and the failure of the rest, entrusted for just a day — and they aren’t up to the task. And yet, Jesus’s response is to be disappointed in everyone. Everyone. Not just the ones who screw up and not excluding the three who were with him. A whole generation.
We must remember that Jesus’s joy is not merit-based or earned. We aren’t supposed to be preening for Jesus’s special attention like sycophants while he holds the proverbial carrot high above our heads, inviting us to perform for him. His disappointment in this passage is linked to the weakness to our listening skills and our reluctance to act in true faith — as a people — a whole people, together — or as individuals, with love for our neighbors.
The man wanting his son healed, the disciples, all of them are demonstrating so little faith, so little sense of God’s glory in their midst, that Jesus becomes frustrated that he has to do it himself. Doing what the disciples already know how to do. Once again, Jesus is like a parent, reminding us how to love our neighbors. And we, the petulant children, keep pretending we don’t know how.
This passage sits between the twin sendings in Luke.
The first, right at the beginning of chapter nine, is when Jesus sends the Twelve out to do his work in the world. Then, at the beginning of chapter ten, he sends out the seventy: all of his disciples. And between these sendings, Jesus warns of his death, then is transfigured on the mountaintop. Nine of the Twelve fail to heal the boy at the base of the mountain, Jesus tells again of his coming death while the disciples argue about their greatness, then try to stop another exorcist, because they’re still missing the point. This isn’t an exhaustive list, either, but it highlights a growing tension within the disciples and toward their following of Jesus. That they are missing something essential.
And it comes after they are shone true grace in giving grace to the world in the feeding of the multitudes and are warned that this work carries a burden for Jesus. That he will be killed in Jerusalem. It is as if the disciples can’t handle the bad news and refuse to acknowledge it. So they act up.
Even when they are told this is a mistake, they persist in their own certainty and judgement. This is why the stories that come after are so significant: of their arguing over which of them is the greatest and then their attempt to stop someone doing Jesus-work that isn’t one of them. But their responses to these moments don’t reflect a deep understanding of faithfulness and trust in Jesus — but, in fact, the opposite.
Anyone who has witnessed a person of faith act cruelly to an immigrant, for example, or watched one reject the hungry or make life more difficult can see in our day the very problem Jesus is revealing to his disciples — about their expectations and commitments. A revelation that is no less pertinent now.
Listening
The focal point of this whole encounter may be its most obvious and reverberating statement of truth, voiced by God themselves:
“This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”
An invocation and a command: Here he is, listen! My own, listen! This is who you have asked for, listen to him!
And then, we experience his silence as he walks down the mountain. And we experience his frustration when he is grabbed the second he walks in the door by a disgruntled father and his own faithless followers. And he speaks to that lack of faith and his own frustration before saying “Bring your son here.” And after healing the boy, he announces that he will be betrayed. These are his words. Are we listening?
This is a story about when things get complicated. And what we tend to do is seek easy answers and ignore what Jesus tells us. Why? Because it’s complicated. But that is when we’re supposed to listen. Like now. When we remember what we are taught. To love, to serve, to find faith and glory in God’s generous grace. Yes, even loving our enemies and those who persecute us. To have faith in that love and abide in it.
When we have something we want to do and don’t know how, what do we do? We probably go to Google or YouTube and watch a video. But what we’re doing is seeking out help. An authority who can tell us or show us how to do something. We want to learn how to do it.
Sometimes we cherry pick websites because we don’t like the answers we get. Or go to the scientists or politicians who confirm our thinking, rather than listen to the ones who know and trust that they are teaching us what we need to know.
Sometimes that’s Jesus. And we need reminding that he’s who we need to listen to. That he’s the one who knows the way to the father. That he is the beloved. And he knows what he’s talking about.
Listen. Even when it’s difficult.
Listen. Even when it doesn’t make sense.
Listen. Even when the people around you don’t seem to get it.
Listen to him. Eventually we all will. And we are fools if we don’t treat his faith and love as our greatest opportunity, our own faith and love, a profound gift, freely given.