Going Down

Last Epiphany, 2/18/2018 | St. Augustine of Canterbury Episcopal Church, 

     It is said that climbers who successfully climb to the peak of Mount Everest have the toughest part of the climb still ahead of them.  Success isn't about reaching the peak.  True success only happens when they are able to get back down off the mountain---exhausted, and worn out from the climb up.  This is true of lesser climbs as well.  Many years ago, while on vacation in Virgin Gorda, I found myself enjoying the challenge of climbing these 40 ft. high granite boulders ("the Baths.")  Once I got up there, though, I couldn't figure out a way back down.  The way down was both harder and more nerve-wracking than the way up. I became so afraid of falling that a friend had to come and help me get down.  Maybe that's why I'm drawn to the last verses in both the first and third readings for this day: each talks about life on the downslope.

     The reading from 2 Kings describes a surprisingly poignant scene at Elijah's departure.
We tend to think of prophets as loners set apart to receive and convey visions from the Lord.   But here we learn of a group, of a "company of prophets," who insist on reminding Elisha of Elijah's imminent departure.   He doesn't want to think about it.  He doesn't want to hear it, so he tells them to shut up.  (The language in the text makes it sound so polite, "be silent," but he's telling them to stuff it!")  So, with ears to hear what's really going on, we know that Elisha feels very close to Elijah.  He is grieved at the very thought of Elijah leaving him behind.  This is why Elisha asks for a "double share" of Elijah's spirit-not because he wants to be "twice the prophet" that his mentor was, but because he wants to be bound to Elijah as his true heir and spiritual son (Deut. 21:17). In the closing verse of the scene, Elisha does receive the double share of Elijah's spirit.
But he still rips and tears at his clothes in grief; he has gone up with Elijah to the place of his ascension, and has seen him off in glory--but Elisha has to go back alone.
 
  In Mark we read about a physical descent.  Jesus has led Peter, James and John up a high mountain.  There they see Jesus transfigured before their eyes.  There he is as big as life, speaking with the greatest heroes of their faith--Moses and Elijah!  It couldn't get any better than that!  Who wouldn't want to stay put?!
 
  Jesus-that's who.  He tells them they have to leave that place and teaching as he goes, leads them back down the mountain. But for those precious, almost unbelievable moments up there on the mountaintop-everything made sense, everything was better than good!   On the way down Jesus orders them not to tell anyone what they have seen until after he has been raised from the dead. ///They would have to have like-wait-what?  Are you talking about that again???  (Only days earlier he had told them that he would be crucified and raised from death.)
If the disciples hoped that Jesus didn't know what he was saying-remember Peter's response was to rebuke Jesus-these hopes are now gone.

     Coming back down is almost always harder than going up. This isn't news for most of us. We are accustomed to the letdown that follows a holiday or a vacation. Oddly, sometimes it is the climb to the heights with all that we saw there that makes the return to ordinary time harder. This is true in the life of faith as well. As W. H. Auden writes in "For the Time Being: A Christmas Oratorio": "To those who have seen
 / The Child, however dimly, however incredulously,
 / The Time Being is, in a sense, the most trying time of all."
 
    Near the middle of February, Christmas is a distant memory. The Super Bowl is over, and Punxatawny Phil has promised 6 more weeks of dreary winter driving.   Jobless rates remain high, our military continues to be engaged in endless war in the Middle East. Climate change is real and the future is uncertain.  We are all here in "the meantime," the hardest time of all.
 
    This morning's scripture offers us a few insights that can help us as we head down and bide our time.
 
 
     First, we might remember that we are actually needed "down here."  Most of life is lived in the valleys and on the slopes, not on the heights. Mark's Gospel has sometimes been characterized as the gospel that teaches "glory through suffering."  A better way of thinking about it might be "glory through service," because Jesus regularly invites his disciples to follow his example of meeting the needs of those whom society ignores-both then, and now.  We are not called to seek out suffering for suffering's sake, but our service to those whom society blindly or intentionally "kicks to the curb" will likely lead us into suffering, if only because we are willing to share in the others pain by association.

     Second, God meets us in the valley and is at work there. We humans often imagine that we must retreat from society in order to meet God/// maintain purity in order to stand in God's presence or achieve some measure of moral or religious holiness in order to get God's attention.  But if we look at Jesus, we can see that the direction has been reversed. Rather than retreat from society's needs, he embraces them. Rather than avoid those who are unclean or diseased--he cures them. Rather than condemn those who are sinful he forgives them. When we meet others in solidarity at the places of disjuncture and fracture in their lives and our own, we find God waiting right there for us.

     Third, moments atop the mountain-both physical and emotional-can give us enduring insight into our own lives and a powerful sense of purpose like nothing else can.   I'm reminded of a story: It was Palm Sunday, and the family's six-year-old son had to stay home from church because he had the flu. When the rest of the family returned home carrying palm branches, the little boy asked what they were for.  His mother explained, "People held them over Jesus's head as he walked by." "Wouldn't you know it," the boy fumed. "The one Sunday I don't go to church, and Jesus shows up!" :
   
     There are those times, those moments in our lives when we were there and Jesus showed up-not necessarily in church either.  Moments remembered perhaps many years later, which still fuel your courage to continue on the way and rekindle and renew hope of what is yet to come.

     Maybe you've had an experience or two in your life when one way or another-you had your own personal "mountaintop experience" of God's love which touched and changed you forever.  We remember Martin Luther King Jr.'s prophetic and telling words just before his death: he was no longer afraid because he'd been to the mountain and saw what God had in store for him.

     And, as we begin our journey into Lent and Holy Week, if all of else fails and you just find yourself stuck, and unable to get there on your own-know that you always have a friend who can help.  Call on Jesus. He knows the way down.