The Fellowship of Fear

But I listened carefully to your sermon, and I am happy to say that I didn't hear you say anything that would make anyone the least bit uncomfortable.

You were wonderful!

You didn't say a thing!”

I would hope that the pastor was mortified by that remark, and chastened to get back to the text and look at scripture more closely.

For scripture is both to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.

And if the affliction does not come first, then we will not recognize or appreciate the comfort when it is offered.

On the mount of Transfiguration, the disciples fall to their knees, overcome by the majesty and the mystery of Christ.

In that dazzling moment, they see that Jesus is

more than the latest scintillating personality,

more than a great moral teacher,

more than a miraculous healer of human ills;

Jesus is what was claimed by the voice at his baptism, none other than the Son of God.

Fall to the ground, disciples!

Yes, fall to the ground and shield your eyes!

This is a holy event, and the disciples are disturbed, yes, more than merely disturbed, they are afraid!

And rightly so.

They are not going to be singing a little happy praise-song with a snappy refrain.

They are afraid, and rightly so.

The emotion that appears again and again in the Gospels is fear.

When people encounter Jesus, their predominant emotion is not joy, but fear!

And the people who are reported as being most afraid are not the crowds, but the disciples, those closest to him.

This is something that seems to be missing in some of the video versions of the Gospel story.

Too often, the filmmakers want to portray Jesus as just one of the guys, of the hearty back-slapping sort.

And the Hollywood special effects that they employ in this scene of the Transfiguration just don't capture the fear either.

The effects are safely on a screen and we are even more safely in a seat.

But the Transfiguration was an encounter with God, and the disciples are overcome with fear in a way that we who watch a movie are not.

When Jesus arranges for a miraculous catch of fish, they are afraid.

When Jesus calms the wind and wave,

they are afraid.

When the women peer into the empty tomb on Easter, they are afraid.

Jesus has to tell them again and again not to be overwhelmed with fear; he would not have had to say that unless they were truly afraid.

Something about Jesus tended to make those closest to him scared half out of their wits.

And it is a deep and profound kind of fear.

It is deeper than the general anxiousness that we are feeling these days.

It is not just the fear of war and rumor of war that pervades the airwaves.

It is not just the fear when the dreaded word “cancer” is mentioned by the doctor.

It is not just the fear of the unknown and the powers greater than ours, as a small child who wants to cross the busy street.

It is the fear of God encountered in Jesus.

We sometimes claim that we want to have a vision of God.

We may claim that we want to have God speak to us and with us.

We may claim that we want some sort of proof of the reality and presence of the living God.

Really?

There on the Mount of Transfiguration, when the privileged disciples encounter the power of God, all that the disciples can do is mumble stupid comments as a way to deflect the paralyzing fear of the scene of Jesus speaking with two of the greatest figures of the Hebrew faith.

According to the pollsters, lots of folks are looking for something “spiritual”.

It seems that what folks often mean by that is that they want to get warm and cuddly with some amorphous, sweet, and always smiling sort of godlet.

Well, here the disciples are on the mountain, having a “spiritual” experience, and they are not smiling; they are terrified.

Why?

In the verses preceding today's lesson, Jesus tells the disciples “I will suffer and be killed”.

When Peter says that he cannot conceive of a messiah who suffers,

Jesus intensifies the thought even more by saying “If you want to follow me, then you must take up your cross, and follow.”

Is this the journey we want? This is a fearful thing.

The fear at the Transfiguration is the fear when we come face to face with God whose name is Jesus the Christ,

and when we sense his particular demands upon us,

when we clearly see his narrow way to which he beckons us. We're afraid.

Do we want to do what he asks?

Do we want to walk his way, or some other?

Jesus says:

“Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy, that leads to destruction....

For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life....” [Mt.7:13-14]

And we are afraid.

The demand is for every bit of our life.

Nothing withheld, no little private corner just for me.

Everything.

And many turn away, sorrowfully afraid.

If our god were merely a projection of our own selfish aspirations, there would be nothing to fear.

But the God who comes to us in Christ Jesus is a living God.

Scripture says It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.[Hebrews 10:31]

But know this: in that moment, encounters with this God are not only fearful, but can also be life-transforming.

When we hear the demand, we look to the crucified one who dies for us,

and when we see his life, his pain and suffering, his victory in cross and resurrection,

we are able to continue our own walk in faith, confidently.

...we have confidence to enter the sanctuary by the blood of Jesus....

...let us approach with a true heart in full assurance of faith....

[Hebrews 10:19,22]

Fear, yes, we should know fear;

it should not be the last word, rather the initial word in our conversations and relationship with God.

This past week I traveled to Spain to visit Katy and Esteban in Barcelona.

They had conspired with Donna to surprise me with a further trip by air to Santiago de Compostella.

It was a wonderful time.

Santiago was believed to be the burial place of James, the disciple of Jesus.

In the Middle Ages, if one could not go to Jerusalem, or Rome, perhaps one could make pilgrimage to Santiago, walking hundreds of miles to get there.

In the 13^th century, they estimate that as many as 2 million people a year made the long walk.

Even today hundred of thousands traverse the Way on foot, bicycle, or horseback.

All along the way there are pilgrimage churches, built in the solid Romanesque style.

There are often statues of St. James as a pilgrim among many others, but at the center of things is the crucifix, Christ on the cross, for us.

Those pilgrims who enter these churches come in with all manner of pains, they have been facing many dangers on the road from robbers, illness, and death.

They look up and see that crucifix, and remember the story of the One who walked that particular way of the cross,

the One who reminded those who followed him that I will be with you to the close of the age. [Matthew 28:20]

the One who with his life echoed the psalmist:

Who are they who fear the Lord?

He will teach them the way they should choose. [Psalm 25:11]

So in this crucified Jesus

they come to know

blessing and command,

warning and assurance,

and direction for their lives.

One cannot enter one of these churches and have an idea that God is frivolous.

Romanesque buildings are massively elemental, dark, places of power.

In Spain many of them have added a black and gold Baroque reredos floor to ceiling across the front of the church;

they, too, speak of the power and magnificence and otherness of God, and our proper fear in his presence.

But that is not all.

When the people of the community and the pilgrims come in and move in procession toward that altar, and as bread and wine, the body and blood of Christ, are placed in hand and mouth,

our afraid sort of fear

is replaced with an awe kind of fear:

This Jesus is for me, for us!

This Jesus cares about me, and us!

This Jesus offers life-direction to me, to us!

This Jesus holds us accountable for the gifts that we have received, both the things that we think that we possess and the Good News of the Gospel that has been entrusted to us!

This Jesus forgives and re-directs us!

This Jesus will hold us close to himself, always!

People don't get close to the living God without being changed.

Afraid? Yes of course we're afraid.

But in our fear we are invited to trust that the summary from Genesis will finally be manifestly true: ...and behold, it was good, very good. 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.