Something Holy Happened

The Transfiguration of Our Lord
February 3, 2008

Matthew 17:1-9
By Pastor Tom Kadel


Something holy happened. Friday night at about 8 o’clock, my fire company pager went off. In case you do not know, I am the chaplain for the Harleysville Fire Company. The page called the company to assist in a helicopter landing. A woman in her fifth month of pregnancy was about to give birth and they needed to get her to the hospital as soon as possible. I grabbed my gear and headed off to the landing area which was the ball field behind Oak Ridge Elementary School. The ambulance was already there awaiting the helicopter. I entered the back of the ambulance and spoke briefly with the terrified mother. I asked if she would like a prayer. She nodded yes. We prayed together. I learned from the EMT that she was pregnant with twins and that a little boy had already been born. From the faces of those in the ambulance, I didn’t have to ask how the child was doing. But no one said it out loud.

Finally, the helicopter came and they rushed the mother into it. Then I saw the helicopter pilot coming out of the ambulance, tenderly holding a bundle. It was the baby boy. Without thinking and with words that I know were not mine, I called to the pilot. “Wait a moment, we will baptize him.” The pilot stopped uneasily. Any delay was not good for the mom or the baby she still carried. There was no water available except for the rain puddle I was standing in. I wetted my fingers, opened the blankets of the bundle a bit, and said, “Baby boy, I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” With that the pilot hurried to the helicopter and was off in an instant. I looked around. I hadn’t noticed that about a dozen members of the fire company had gathered there, many were wiping tears from their eyes as was their chaplain.

Something holy had happened. In the moment of that baptism, the universe stood still. None of us was aware of the roar of the helicopter rotors. None of us was aware of the wet chill in the air. None of us was aware of the flashing lights from the several emergency vehicles. None of us was aware of anything except the holiness of God come full bloom on a ball field. None of us was aware of anything except that God had come to this place of tragedy and transfigured it into some place holy.

Today is Transfiguration Sunday, the final Sunday in this little Epiphany season. As it always does, Epiphany ends with this very unusual – dare I say odd – account of Jesus taking Peter, James and John up to the mountain top where, we are told, Jesus was transfigured before them and his face shone like the sun and his clothes became dazzling white. Then appear Moses and Elijah with Jesus. Peter, always the one to bluster in, offers to make three “dwellings” there – one for Jesus, one for Moses and one for Elijah. But even as he is speaking a bright cloud overshadowed them and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” These were the same words that had come from heaven at the moment of Jesus’ baptism at the Jordon River.

For centuries, Christian preachers have scratched their heads about this account. How do you preach on this? What do we make of this? Where does this fit into any experience that we have in life? I myself have done some of that head scratching. But no more. I was at that mountain top Friday night. I saw the full glory of God come through nothing more than puddle water. I heard heaven’s words come out of my own mouth: “We will baptize him.” There are no words to adequately describe the holy that happened.

But something nagged at me the rest of Friday night and into Saturday morning. Though I had never been in that circumstance before, it had a familiarity to it. Then in a flash, I knew why. I have been to that mountain top before. I have been surprised by unexpected holiness before.

I stood in the total ruins of a man’s house in Ocean Springs, Mississippi, shortly after Hurricane Katrina and heard him praise God right out loud that his family was safe. I have been at the bedside of dying ones who literally glowed with anticipation of soon seeing their beloved Lord. I have countless times watched the faces of our little ones as they “got it” during a children’s sermon while I felt like I was just babbling on and making no sense whatsoever. Again and again and again in my life, there have been moments that literally dripped with the wonder of the holy and each and every one of those moments have been a gift to me from God.

You never know when something holy will happen. Peter, James and John had no idea of what was to take place as they ascended that mountain with Jesus. So, the first thing I will tell you is that the appearance of the holy anywhere in this dark world will always be a surprise. The holiness of God is something so totally out of our control we cannot conceive of how to create it or manage it or manipulate it ourselves.

And that leads to the second thing I will tell you. The appearance of the holy is always a humbling experience. Since we cannot create it, manage it, or manipulate it, these holy happenings are a clear reminder of the bigness of God and the smallness of humanity. And finally, I will tell you this. The appearance of the holy is always a gift. It isn’t God just showing off. These holy moments are about God, but for us. It is God saying, “I am here as I always am, but in this brief shining moment I will strengthen you and prop you up and point you in new directions and let you be my peace-maker, my justice-worker, my comfort-giver, my light-bearer in this dark world.”

When has holy happened to you? Whenever it was, whenever it will be, it is a gift to you from God. It is a gift to strengthen you, prop you up, point you in a new direction and invite you into the blessed work of peace-making, justice-working, comfort-giving and light bearing.

As the season of Epiphany draws to a close and the weighty days of Lent approach, I pray that you will be blessed on a mountain top that looks to the rest of the world like a school ball field, or a workplace, or a traffic jam or a busy store or a quiet room or anyplace else your life takes you. You just never know. All we do know is this, we can never find the holy. The holy always finds us. And that, brothers and sisters, is the gospel of the Lord. Amen The peace of God which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Amen.

The peace of God which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.