Moving At The Speed Of Light: On The Mountain
Sermon
Moving At The Speed Of Light
Second Lesson Sermons For Advent/Christmas/Epiphany
Peter went to the mountain with Jesus. And what happened there was of such magnitude that decades after the resurrection, it still was of bedrock importance to Peter's witness for Christ. We know the story. Peter and James and John went with Jesus up to a high place, apart from the others. And while they were there Jesus' appearance before them changed. They saw him stand with Moses and Elijah. As Matthew describes, "His face shown like the sun, and his garments became white as light." Peter offered to make shelters for each one, for Moses, for Elijah, and for Jesus. What a compliment, placing Jesus on an even plain with two of Israel's most revered and faithful fathers. But Peter's comments were swept away by the coming of a sudden bright cloud. "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased," the voice of God -- a moment of divine clarification for all eternity, and Peter was privileged to hear it. No wonder this time on the mountain with Jesus was bedrock for Peter's witness. From then on, as they came down from the mountain and wherever they went, they saw only Jesus.
We all go to the mountain. Sometimes we go for inspiration, or solitude, or adventure. Sometimes we go because we must travel over the mountain or through the mountains because our life journey requires it. But it is certain that on the mountain we will find a place which is challenging, mysterious, perplexing, often threatening, exhausting, and sometimes unforgiving.
Taking The Elephants Over The Mountains.
Hannibal was the son of a general around 220 B.C. in the days of the Roman Empire. His father, a Carthaginian officer, trained the young Hannibal to disdain the Romans. Later, after Hannibal's commander was assassinated, Hannibal, at age 26, was named commander in chief by the acclamation of those under his command. The Carthaginian leadership quickly affirmed the field promotion. Hannibal strengthened his armies until they were ready to confront Rome. Leaving Spain with approximately 40,000 troops, horsemen, and 38 elephants, he made his way through southern France (Gaul) and prepared to enter Italy from the north over the Alps.
We remember Hannibal as the one who took the elephants over the mountains, but few remember the challenges he faced along the way. First the river. He crossed the Rh™ne using commandeered boats for his troops, and for the elephants, he built earth-covered rafts. But how would they find their way in the Alps? Some friendly, local Gallic leaders assigned guides to help with the complicated Alpine passes, but many Alpine natives were hostile. As Hannibal and his ten thousands threaded the precipitous mountain paths, local residents rolled heavy stones down upon man and beast from the heights above. His descent on an icy base covered with fresh snow caused animals and soldiers to founder, and a landslide blocked their narrow path, delaying progress for a day. After fifteen days crossing the Alps, Hannibal descended into Italy, with 26,000 troops and a few of the original elephants.
So, Hannibal got the elephants over the mountains, with mixed results. For some time he controlled large sections of Italy, but he never reached Rome, and finally was driven from there. Unwelcome at home because of his perceived mismanagement of the Roman campaign, he died a man on the run, pursued by the Romans.1
In Every Life There Come Times
To Get The Elephants Over The Mountains
Everyone goes to the mountains. And almost everyone at sometime must take the elephants over the mountains, which is much different than simply going there. By "taking the elephants over the mountains" I mean a grueling, lengthy, nearly back-breaking, dangerous trek for which one is by all appearances only partially prepared. Raising a child, attaining an advanced degree, building a business, facing a long and serious illness or recovering from a devastating accident, facing and recovering from marital difficulty or enduring and healing from divorce, returning to regular living after the death of a loved one, recovery from an addiction -- all of these and many more are places in life where we must take the elephants over the mountains. And we take the elephants over the mountains in a final sense when our bodies wind down in this world and we make the transition to the next. It was a part of life for Jesus, it was a part of life for his followers, it is a part of life for Christ's church, and it is a part of life for each one of us.
A seminarian in his thirties has been called to County Hospital. Not long for this world is Blanche, age 57. The chaplain on duty indicates that he doesn't think she has family, but somewhere hospital records show a connection with this student pastor's church. While the pastor does not recognize her name, he will be glad to check on her. The chaplain walks him to Blanche's room, which is on the second floor, and they pause for prayer before the pastor enters. The stench of someone working hard at dying is in the air. The pastor enters unnoticed and he wonders whether Blanche is past responding. The motion on the heart monitor means she is still alive. Beeping from the IV fills the room and the rattle of Blanche's breath rattles the preacher. He has never been around death as a pastor. Eyes open only a slit, Blanche appears mostly asleep. He turns to leave, desiring the easy relief of the hallway. "No," he thinks, "if she can hear me, Blanche needs to know I've come."
"Blanche ... Blanche ... My name is Rudy. I'm the pastor at Mt. Zion." He speaks quietly and close to her ear. Her eyes open a bit. The charge nurse comes in to change the IV bag, which stops the beeping.
"If you want her to hear you, talk loud, right into her ear." Then demonstrating, "BLANCHE, BLANCHE, YOUR PREACHER'S HERE." As Blanche's eyes open, the nurse is called away to another patient's room.
Rudy bends and speaks loudly, "MY NAME IS RUDY. I'M THE PASTOR AT MT. ZION. YOU KNOW, MT. ZION."
Blanche lunges, arms outstretched, in the direction of the pastor with such strength that Rudy straightens up, glancing over his shoulder expecting to see that one of Blanche's friends has come into the room, such was her gesture of bond and kinship.
But no one had come ... except for Rudy in the name of the Church. No one was there except for Rudy, and the One who stood behind him, who stands behind him. In that moment Rudy realized that pastors, and Christians for that matter, are no more than a currency issued by the Kingdom, useful because of the worth of the One who stands behind them.
Blanche was bringing the elephants over the mountains one more time this side of heaven, and she knew that if she could touch even the fringe of his garments she would be healed. She received her healing that night, her eternal healing, touching the fringe of his garments which temporarily had been entrusted to Rudy, who said at her funeral, "Blanche, beloved daughter of our Father, your faith has made you well."
So it is true that in each of our lives in some season we take the elephants over the mountains, and in these times of intensity, sacrifice, danger, and uncertainty, all of our resources are required and the resources of those around us. Often we see Christ clearly on the mountain. And it is also true that, the mountains successfully mastered, we reach a place where we make our descent from the lofty places to the plain. And if the journey has been difficult, which taking the elephants over the mountains inevitably is, we come to rest upon the plain, changed. And when we come from the mountain to the plain, our descending approach can make all the difference.
The couple has just dropped off their son to begin college. A mom sits with her husband in a diner. One hundred fifty miles ago they were setting their eighteen-year-old up in his dorm room. Now they sip their coffee with not much to say. They will drive another 200 miles tonight, but for now they are pensive over supper. She has turned her boy loose to try life on his own and wonders if she has taught him enough or taught him the right things. A mixture of excitement, loss, and fear have taken away her appetite. Proud that she didn't make a good-bye scene, she is doing a little better than expected, which is good because in less than a week she will be sending off to college another eighteen-year-old and a twenty-year-old. Things lately have been so lively in the house, now they will be much more quiet. She used to wish that once in a while it would be more quiet.
A few tables away two tired parents preside over a noisy table. Just the two of them and three children in high chairs. At first she notices the noisy five with an uncomprehending stare, but then her eyes grow pink and she reaches for a Kleenex.
"Look, Honey, over there," she says nodding to the trio of high chairs, "that was us sixteen years ago."
The coffee cups emptied, her husband heads for the cashier, while his wife stops at the noisy table.
"We had three in high chairs, same as you. It's tiring, isn't it? We're sending our three off to college this fall. Take time to enjoy them." She pats the hand of the tired mother. "We're going home to a house that will be a little too quiet."
So, they got the elephants over the mountains, having struggled and sacrificed for years, and now the children are on their own and their parents are on their own. How will it be living in a too quiet home? How will these two spend their time?
Where will the joy come from, the reason for being? The elephants are over the mountains and how will life be now? So the mountain successfully mastered, we reach a place where we make our descent from the lofty places to the plain. And when the journey has been difficult, we come to rest upon the plain, changed.
When We Come From The Mountain To The Plain,
Our Descending Approach Can Make All The Difference
When Hannibal came down from the mountains to the plain of northern Italy, he expected to find there the enemy. And the enemy he did find: endless struggle, conflict, eventual defeat -- he was driven from that place.
A temptation for us is to think that taking the elephants over the mountains will leave us the same -- unchanged. And that simply we need to arrive upon the plain and be on our way, which is never the case. We can, however, plot a new course and travel the plain differently and successfully.
But there are a few things to keep in mind. When Peter, James, and John came down from the mountain, they saw only Jesus, which meant that their view of everything else had changed. Eventually Peter's ministry took him far and wide to unfamiliar places and people. When we come down from the mountain, learn the terrain. Learn in a new way the interests, the appetites, the gifts, of those around us and the special opportunities afforded by this location. Thoreau reminds us that the entire world may be seen in a few acres of ground if we will only see. So learn the terrain.
Secondly: say "yes" to the plain. Hannibal came down from the mountain and expected to find the enemy, and he found strife and conflict, misery and defeat. Peter, James, and John came down from the mountain and saw Jesus only. When we in our life journey have taken the elephants over the mountains, who will we be and where will we find joy? Whom will we see? Whom will we expect to meet on the plain? Will we be ready to receive the treasures of a new place? Will we be ready to receive the blessings which are ours to receive as changed people? Will we patiently and gently come to know the worth of those we meet who are differently gifted than ourselves? And will we be free in an unexpected place to touch the fringe of his garment?
From the lofty places to the plain, our descending approach can make all the difference. And Jesus, who Peter, James, and John saw differently on the mountain, after the Resurrection said to his disciples, "I am going ahead of you and I will meet you on the plain."
____________
1. "Hannibal," The Encyclopedia Britannica, 1993 edition, vol. 5, pp. 683 - 685.
We all go to the mountain. Sometimes we go for inspiration, or solitude, or adventure. Sometimes we go because we must travel over the mountain or through the mountains because our life journey requires it. But it is certain that on the mountain we will find a place which is challenging, mysterious, perplexing, often threatening, exhausting, and sometimes unforgiving.
Taking The Elephants Over The Mountains.
Hannibal was the son of a general around 220 B.C. in the days of the Roman Empire. His father, a Carthaginian officer, trained the young Hannibal to disdain the Romans. Later, after Hannibal's commander was assassinated, Hannibal, at age 26, was named commander in chief by the acclamation of those under his command. The Carthaginian leadership quickly affirmed the field promotion. Hannibal strengthened his armies until they were ready to confront Rome. Leaving Spain with approximately 40,000 troops, horsemen, and 38 elephants, he made his way through southern France (Gaul) and prepared to enter Italy from the north over the Alps.
We remember Hannibal as the one who took the elephants over the mountains, but few remember the challenges he faced along the way. First the river. He crossed the Rh™ne using commandeered boats for his troops, and for the elephants, he built earth-covered rafts. But how would they find their way in the Alps? Some friendly, local Gallic leaders assigned guides to help with the complicated Alpine passes, but many Alpine natives were hostile. As Hannibal and his ten thousands threaded the precipitous mountain paths, local residents rolled heavy stones down upon man and beast from the heights above. His descent on an icy base covered with fresh snow caused animals and soldiers to founder, and a landslide blocked their narrow path, delaying progress for a day. After fifteen days crossing the Alps, Hannibal descended into Italy, with 26,000 troops and a few of the original elephants.
So, Hannibal got the elephants over the mountains, with mixed results. For some time he controlled large sections of Italy, but he never reached Rome, and finally was driven from there. Unwelcome at home because of his perceived mismanagement of the Roman campaign, he died a man on the run, pursued by the Romans.1
In Every Life There Come Times
To Get The Elephants Over The Mountains
Everyone goes to the mountains. And almost everyone at sometime must take the elephants over the mountains, which is much different than simply going there. By "taking the elephants over the mountains" I mean a grueling, lengthy, nearly back-breaking, dangerous trek for which one is by all appearances only partially prepared. Raising a child, attaining an advanced degree, building a business, facing a long and serious illness or recovering from a devastating accident, facing and recovering from marital difficulty or enduring and healing from divorce, returning to regular living after the death of a loved one, recovery from an addiction -- all of these and many more are places in life where we must take the elephants over the mountains. And we take the elephants over the mountains in a final sense when our bodies wind down in this world and we make the transition to the next. It was a part of life for Jesus, it was a part of life for his followers, it is a part of life for Christ's church, and it is a part of life for each one of us.
A seminarian in his thirties has been called to County Hospital. Not long for this world is Blanche, age 57. The chaplain on duty indicates that he doesn't think she has family, but somewhere hospital records show a connection with this student pastor's church. While the pastor does not recognize her name, he will be glad to check on her. The chaplain walks him to Blanche's room, which is on the second floor, and they pause for prayer before the pastor enters. The stench of someone working hard at dying is in the air. The pastor enters unnoticed and he wonders whether Blanche is past responding. The motion on the heart monitor means she is still alive. Beeping from the IV fills the room and the rattle of Blanche's breath rattles the preacher. He has never been around death as a pastor. Eyes open only a slit, Blanche appears mostly asleep. He turns to leave, desiring the easy relief of the hallway. "No," he thinks, "if she can hear me, Blanche needs to know I've come."
"Blanche ... Blanche ... My name is Rudy. I'm the pastor at Mt. Zion." He speaks quietly and close to her ear. Her eyes open a bit. The charge nurse comes in to change the IV bag, which stops the beeping.
"If you want her to hear you, talk loud, right into her ear." Then demonstrating, "BLANCHE, BLANCHE, YOUR PREACHER'S HERE." As Blanche's eyes open, the nurse is called away to another patient's room.
Rudy bends and speaks loudly, "MY NAME IS RUDY. I'M THE PASTOR AT MT. ZION. YOU KNOW, MT. ZION."
Blanche lunges, arms outstretched, in the direction of the pastor with such strength that Rudy straightens up, glancing over his shoulder expecting to see that one of Blanche's friends has come into the room, such was her gesture of bond and kinship.
But no one had come ... except for Rudy in the name of the Church. No one was there except for Rudy, and the One who stood behind him, who stands behind him. In that moment Rudy realized that pastors, and Christians for that matter, are no more than a currency issued by the Kingdom, useful because of the worth of the One who stands behind them.
Blanche was bringing the elephants over the mountains one more time this side of heaven, and she knew that if she could touch even the fringe of his garments she would be healed. She received her healing that night, her eternal healing, touching the fringe of his garments which temporarily had been entrusted to Rudy, who said at her funeral, "Blanche, beloved daughter of our Father, your faith has made you well."
So it is true that in each of our lives in some season we take the elephants over the mountains, and in these times of intensity, sacrifice, danger, and uncertainty, all of our resources are required and the resources of those around us. Often we see Christ clearly on the mountain. And it is also true that, the mountains successfully mastered, we reach a place where we make our descent from the lofty places to the plain. And if the journey has been difficult, which taking the elephants over the mountains inevitably is, we come to rest upon the plain, changed. And when we come from the mountain to the plain, our descending approach can make all the difference.
The couple has just dropped off their son to begin college. A mom sits with her husband in a diner. One hundred fifty miles ago they were setting their eighteen-year-old up in his dorm room. Now they sip their coffee with not much to say. They will drive another 200 miles tonight, but for now they are pensive over supper. She has turned her boy loose to try life on his own and wonders if she has taught him enough or taught him the right things. A mixture of excitement, loss, and fear have taken away her appetite. Proud that she didn't make a good-bye scene, she is doing a little better than expected, which is good because in less than a week she will be sending off to college another eighteen-year-old and a twenty-year-old. Things lately have been so lively in the house, now they will be much more quiet. She used to wish that once in a while it would be more quiet.
A few tables away two tired parents preside over a noisy table. Just the two of them and three children in high chairs. At first she notices the noisy five with an uncomprehending stare, but then her eyes grow pink and she reaches for a Kleenex.
"Look, Honey, over there," she says nodding to the trio of high chairs, "that was us sixteen years ago."
The coffee cups emptied, her husband heads for the cashier, while his wife stops at the noisy table.
"We had three in high chairs, same as you. It's tiring, isn't it? We're sending our three off to college this fall. Take time to enjoy them." She pats the hand of the tired mother. "We're going home to a house that will be a little too quiet."
So, they got the elephants over the mountains, having struggled and sacrificed for years, and now the children are on their own and their parents are on their own. How will it be living in a too quiet home? How will these two spend their time?
Where will the joy come from, the reason for being? The elephants are over the mountains and how will life be now? So the mountain successfully mastered, we reach a place where we make our descent from the lofty places to the plain. And when the journey has been difficult, we come to rest upon the plain, changed.
When We Come From The Mountain To The Plain,
Our Descending Approach Can Make All The Difference
When Hannibal came down from the mountains to the plain of northern Italy, he expected to find there the enemy. And the enemy he did find: endless struggle, conflict, eventual defeat -- he was driven from that place.
A temptation for us is to think that taking the elephants over the mountains will leave us the same -- unchanged. And that simply we need to arrive upon the plain and be on our way, which is never the case. We can, however, plot a new course and travel the plain differently and successfully.
But there are a few things to keep in mind. When Peter, James, and John came down from the mountain, they saw only Jesus, which meant that their view of everything else had changed. Eventually Peter's ministry took him far and wide to unfamiliar places and people. When we come down from the mountain, learn the terrain. Learn in a new way the interests, the appetites, the gifts, of those around us and the special opportunities afforded by this location. Thoreau reminds us that the entire world may be seen in a few acres of ground if we will only see. So learn the terrain.
Secondly: say "yes" to the plain. Hannibal came down from the mountain and expected to find the enemy, and he found strife and conflict, misery and defeat. Peter, James, and John came down from the mountain and saw Jesus only. When we in our life journey have taken the elephants over the mountains, who will we be and where will we find joy? Whom will we see? Whom will we expect to meet on the plain? Will we be ready to receive the treasures of a new place? Will we be ready to receive the blessings which are ours to receive as changed people? Will we patiently and gently come to know the worth of those we meet who are differently gifted than ourselves? And will we be free in an unexpected place to touch the fringe of his garment?
From the lofty places to the plain, our descending approach can make all the difference. And Jesus, who Peter, James, and John saw differently on the mountain, after the Resurrection said to his disciples, "I am going ahead of you and I will meet you on the plain."
____________
1. "Hannibal," The Encyclopedia Britannica, 1993 edition, vol. 5, pp. 683 - 685.
