Silence and Speech

Isn't it a wonder that our heads don't split open with all of the radio, television, email messages, You-Tube traffic, and wireless messages of all sorts that are pulsating through the airwaves these days.

When we tune in any of those media, we are simply overwhelmed with the sheer number of messages crowding through the port we have opened..

It is the general human tendency to talk and keep talking... but is it with full understanding?

Peter fell right into that, didn't he?

...until Jesus had to tell him just to be quiet...and listen....and see what things God intended for him and for the other disciples to understand.

(A) Here is an incident that took place on a college campus, where a distinguished poet was visiting a particular class.

The poet recited one of his works, and it was followed by some conversation back and forth with the students, until one sophomore (wise-fool) asked him what does this particular stanza mean?

The poet looked puzzled, and recited that stanza again.

The student persisted in his questioning, until the poet had to tell him,

“Look, I cannot be any more clear than I have been in that stanza.

If I could say what I have in mind in some other way, I would. The essence of that stanza cannot be phrased otherwise, because it would then be something different.

Maybe it would be a recipe, or a shopping list, but it wouldn't be this poem.”

One could tell that the conversation was not going to go anywhere;

the student wanted a dissection-analysis of the poem, and the poet cannot possibly give such a thing.

Do you catch the comparison with the scene of the Transfiguration?

We would love to have a complete analysis of the event, what each little element of the story is saying.

Like Peter, we'd like to have a handle on the situation, so that we can manage our reaction to it,

and keep it at arm's length.

But this is a time to simply stop, and listen, to see, and to marvel.

It is time to say Wow!

What is God doing and intending to do?

Is this just something long ago and far away?

Or does this have something to do with me?

(B) This past fall when Katy was busy with a recording session in Madrid, I visited the Prado, the world-famous and huge art museum in Madrid.

They were having a visiting exhibition of a large number of paintings by Rembrandt, gathered from a number of places around Europe.

I joined hundreds of other people as we slowly moved past masterpiece after masterpiece of his work.

I have read about Rembrandt's use of light in his paintings, how special it is.

One can only get a hint of it in the prints in the history books.

But seeing them in person...the glow, the luminosity, makes for an indescribable experience.

I went upstairs and saw dozens of paintings by artists of the same era and later than Rembrandt,

who were trying to do the same thing as he had done, but it was different; they had not captured that special sense of things.

How did Rembrandt do it?

What does it mean that his paintings have a special character about them?

It cannot be distilled into words, because then it wouldn't need to be a painting, just a description of a painting.

I had to stop, and gently look, and marvel.

(C) One of J.S. Bach's organ masterworks is called the Passacaglia, a set of variations on a 15-note ground, ending with a monumental fugue.

Some of the variations are quite complex, but there is one that turns the little melody into arpeggiated figures that range over the entire keyboard, but do so in utter simplicity.

Some portions of the work are quite loud, but this little variation I register quietly, and when the performance is going well, the sound becomes almost liquid as it flows upward.

And someone will be sure to say: “That's ridiculous; sound isn't liquid and it can't flow upwards.”

They're right of course, and also perfectly wrong, because that is the only poor little way that I can figure out how to describe that bit of music.

It can't be completely reduced to words, can it?, or else we wouldn't need the music, and it would be something quite different than the musical event that it is.

There is something of the essence of the music that one simply cannot control or grasp.

We simply have to take the time to listen and allow the music to speak .

(D) Have you ever taken the time to encourage a flower?

I mean, from the planting of the seeds, the tender shoots, the swelling bud, to the open bloom with color, shape, and fragrance?

One can describe the biological processes involved and still not know a flower.

It is more than biology; there is involved an element of sheer joyful exuberance , much more than can be defined with reproductive necessities.

A flower is evocative of something heavenly, I do think.

We've danced all around through poetry, art, music, and biology in order to get ourselves ready to approach this scene of the Transfiguration with a very large dose of humility.

There is more going on here than we can put into words

it is an event bigger than our minds can grasp.

Oh, we can try to describe this detail or that part of the background of the event,

we can look to the Old Testament for some clues,

we can analyze word-origins and usages,

we can discover its literary outline.

But it only goes so far;

there is more that cannot be described.

Our reaction is like Peter's.

First we try to grasp the situation, and then try to manage it:

“This is clearly a displaced resurrection narrative functioning in an anticipatory way to further the storyteller's art, reflecting key figures from Israel's past as harbingers of the importance of Jesus.”

That sounds like it could be right out of a book, a shortened version of lots of information from the commentaries.

But prosaic description doesn't get it all, does it?

Just as Jesus interrupted Peter's management of the scene,

our analysis must be interrupted.

We must be driven to silence and adoration of the scene.

Let there be wonder, and mystery, and awe...and silence.

Peter, James, and John see something beyond seeing, and come to know something beyond knowing.

Let's be quiet, and look and listen more closely.

Mark writes of the Transfiguration soon after the confession of Peter at Caesarea Philippi, “You are the Christ.”

Oh, yes, that's right, Peter, in ways that you ...and we... cannot grasp.

That there would be a vision of Moses and Elijah, two important characters from the past who, according to old tradition, would return before Messiah arrives...what a privilege to be granted that vision!

99.9% of us go through life without any such wondrous thing happening.

What more can or should Peter or the rest of us say? A quiet “Thank you” is about all that we can manage.

It is is remarkable, and wonderful that Jesus is still patient with Peter and the others, even when they misunderstand what is happening and what their response should be

There are so many ways in which we can go astray in our thinking and actions!

The scene of the Transfiguration is like a poem that means more than words;

it is like art that says more than just a picture;

it is like music that brings joy through time.

For the skill of the story-teller, and poet, for the confirmation of past hopes,

for art and music that say things that cannot be said any other way,

for the patience of Christ with Peter and us,

for these things that we can describe about the Transfiguration,

for all that the story says which we cannot fathom right now,

and for our proper silence that in God's good time will burst forth into speech and song,

we say “Thanks be to you, God our Father, Thanks be to you, now and forever.” Amen.

Please note: The preceding sermon is provided as a resource for the thought, prayer, and meditation of the members and friends of St. Mark's. It is the residue of a verbal event, and thus it does not have academic footnotes and other details that would be expected in a written document. The writer gladly acknowledges the prior thought and work of many Christians before him.