"Moments of wonder and transformation"
Luke 9:28-36, Gen 9:8-17

Introduction

My first baby was born in the middle of the night. I was already in a ward in the hospital because my blood pressure had suddenly risen at the end of the pregnancy and I'd been wondering when to let someone know that my contractions had started getting serious. Then my waters broke and suddenly there was plenty of action, nurses bustling me down to the brightly lit maternity ward and the next couple of hours went in a blur. My husband, my mother, my best friend, a doctor, some nurses and I think a couple of medical students were all there to welcome our healthy little boy, my blood pressure dropped back to normal and all was ok.

Some time later I was wheeled into the recovery ward where I quickly fell asleep - I had been awake nearly 24 hours after all, and my baby was left beside me in a crib.

When I woke it was early morning and as I looked around I realised I was the only person in the 8-bed ward - I vividly remember the pink furnishings of the ward in the soft glow of morning light. Then I looked at my new son in the crib beside my bed and found he was awake and looking right at me - one of those moments of wonder that will stay with me for the rest of my life. My mother told me that after she'd rung my anxious dad at home with the news of Daniel's birth he had gone outside and watched the sun rise, also lost in the wonder of it all.

I. Light and Wonder

It seems to me that there is some sort of connection between light and wonder. Good things, wonderful memories, important occasions seem to be bathed in a radiance. Many of us have special memories of sunrises or sunsets - sometimes we even try to capture the moment on film. Occasionally as I'm driving down Hindmarsh Drive when the sun is beginning to set and the beams of light are pushing through the clouds I think of the description in Bryce Courtney's book "April Fools Day" where it speaks of sunbeams as "fingers of God" and I'm struck by the beauty of the moment. I love the warmth of light filtered through a window on a winter's day and the beauty of coloured beams coming through stained glass. On nights when there is a full moon or a sky full of stars - it is the light that we wonder at. Last weekend at the coast we were amazed again at the clarity and prominence of the Milky way (well, on the first night anyway). Who isn't drawn to the light of a fire - with its glow and dance of colours? The first of the Lenten studies speaks of the light of autumn as having a special quality. Certainly for me an abiding image of autumn is the deep yellow of the afternoon shining on the turning leaves silhouetted against a dark grey sky. Let me read to you from Nick Cave's introduction to the gospel of Mark - commissioned for the "pocket canon" series of the King James Bible. He was surprised that reading the gospel made such an impact on him, particularly the portrait it gave of Jesus. He says in the essay: "I was reminded of the picture of Christ, painted by Holman Hunt, where he appears, robed and handsome, a lantern in his hand, knocking on a door. The door to our hearts, presumably. The light is dim and buttery in the engulfing darkness. Christ came to me in this way, with a dim light, but light enough." It seems to me that moments of wonder are often remembered in a particular light.

II. The Transfiguration

The disciples on the mountain where Jesus was bathed in light must have been full of wonder. The man they had followed and admired was now radiant before them - infused with God's very being. We talk of "Mountain top experiences" - particularly in reference to times when we are spiritually uplifted. This must have been a truly wonderful moment for Peter and John and James. As I read this passage again recently I noticed for the first time the little phrase "They were weighed down with sleep, but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory." How close they were to missing that wonderful experience! And what a poignant echo of another time when they were weighed down with sleep but couldn't stay awake - the time in the garden of Gethsemene where they let their friend down so badly. But I think there is a deliberate choice of words here, because already in this experience of the Transfiguration the writer of the gospel is connecting the story with the Passion narrative - the description of Jesus' journey to Jerusalem and the cross. It would be good to stay with the mountain top experience. That is what the disciples wanted to do. But by considering this passage at the beginning of the season of Lent, we are reminded that the glory of Christ was ultimately seen at the cross. The light and the supernatural events stated very clearly that Jesus was God's chosen Son, but the task he was chosen for was not going to be an easy one. So they had to go down from the mountain again. It is not surprising that the disciples wanted to stay there. We want the moments of wonder to be frozen in time. We've celebrated the life of a child this morning - I think there is a little part of us that would like the children we know to be young and innocent and so full of potential for ever. The dedication of a child (baptism, wedding, birth of a child) is an important moment for that child, and their friends and family. It is a recognition of God's gift of life and love, and moments like these need to be remembered and allowed to shape the future.

In the gospel stories the Transfiguration was only a short moment in time. It was an important moment, but the journey needed to go on. It would give shape for the future, giving Peter and James and John an assurance of who Jesus was that would have come back to them after the crucifixion and resurrection. It must have been an important moment for Jesus too, giving him the strength for the journey to come, but the moment of wonder in the dazzling light soon had to be overshadowed as he began the walk into darkness. And so it was a moment of transition, setting him on his journey but doing so in the knowledge of God's blessing and presence. And the next time we read of the dazzling light surrounding Jesus it is at the open grave on the morning of his resurrection, so the Transfiguration was the foretaste of that most important event in history.

III Transition - God's commitment to us

Not many of us have been bathed in the light of God's glory as is described in the story of the Transfiguration. But the rainbow is a wonderful and enduring sign of God's commitment to us. It is also light transformed, physics teachers could give a technical explanation but its beauty and wonder transcend the purely physical properties. I'm always interested to see how many pre-school children use rainbows in their paintings and drawings - it seems the different colours have an irresistible attraction. But even though the rainbow is attractive to children, it isn't a childish symbol. It is spoken of in the Flood narrative of Genesis - a terrible story of judgement of a created world gone wrong. But after the flood, God recognises that destruction is not the way to remove evil from the world. Instead God makes a new covenant with the people, the animals and the earth, a covenant which resolves to re-create and sustain the world despite its inherent evil. In other words, the hope for all creation has come not from human effort but from God's commitment of himself to us. And the rainbow is the sign of that commitment. Each time we see light transformed into a rainbow, it can be for us a moment of wonder, a moment of remembering God's love and commitment to each one of us, a sign of hope that despite our failings God is resolved to love and care for us.

IV Transformation

We have spoken today of moments of wonder where we are reminded of the goodness of life, and the grace of God. Moments when light becomes transformed into something significant, drawing our attention to that which is beyond us. But that wonder and those moments will be of little value unless we allow them to transform us. Moments of wonder can remain a sentimental memory. Or they can turn us to a new direction, a new resolve. They can transform us. Having a baby is a moment of wonder. But unless we are willing for life to be transformed it will end up being a frustrating and damaging experience for all the family. Mountain top spiritual experiences are moments of wonder. But they are just fading memories unless we let them take us to a new level of commitment to God. In a few minutes we will be invited to partake in communion. Taking bread and the cup is a reminder of what Jesus did for us when he died on the cross. Understanding this love and sacrifice can be a moment of wonder if we open ourselves to be transformed. This time of Lent when we are encouraged to take on small disciplines, or participate in studies, or open ourselves more deeply to others in our community has the potential to be a time of transformation for us if we allow it.

We are going to hear in a little while about the Jubilee 2000 campaign - the world-wide effort to encourage monetary funds and governments to cancel third-world debt. It began as a dream and needed hard work, but it ended up being the most significant campaign for change the world has seen. Governments and lending bodies have changed their policies, some countries are experiencing relief. Transformation at the level of society is as important as transformation in each of our individual lives. So we can be encouraged by that story.

Moments of wonder can be moments of transformation. Our hymn of response reminds us that our efforts will always be blessed and transformed by God's abiding love. We want to hang on to moments of wonder, but are reminded that God's love will not let us go. We seek to follow the light we have seen in Christ, but we are reminded that the light follows me all my way. We look for the rainbow to remind us of our need for God, but discover that God seeks for me through my pain. And as we look towards the cross in this first Sunday of Lent we find that it freely offers us everlasting life. I invite you to be transformed by the wonder of God's love. Amen.

Jeanette Mathews
2.3.01