(Homily for Gayton Road Christian Church's Worship on March 3, 2019, Transfiguration Sunday)
A Bit of Christianese
One of my strongest memories of
childhood, engraved on my mind by countless repetition, is the dinner
table. The food changed from night
to night, and our collective tastes evolved over the years, but a few things
remained the same: our seats, the pot of tea, and holding hands together to
share a blessing for the meal. My
dad or my mom would usually say the blessing, expressing thanks for the food
before us and often asking for God’s care over the needful among our family and
friends. One particular variation
of this daily blessing was the prayer that my mom would say when my dad was out
of town for work. She would ask
God for “traveling mercies” for my dad.
“Traveling mercies” is such a
common expression in the church these days that you might be surprised to learn
it only emerged a little over a century ago. I did a bit of research this past week and discovered a
handy online resource, “Dictionary of Christianese,” which gives in-depth
histories for “the casual slang of the Christian church.” According to the Dictionary of
Christianese, “traveling mercies” was first used in the late 19th century
exclusively for missionaries on long journeys to remote parts of the
world. But as the trusty Dictionary of Christianese explains, “it
wasn’t long before non-missionaries wanted these special prayers too. After
all, why should ordinary lay people settle for just hedges of
protection when they can have traveling mercies too? And so by
the mid-20th century, the expression ‘traveling mercies’ was being
used by pretty much anyone who wanted prayer for an upcoming trip, whether the
trip was specifically religious in nature or not.”[1]
Departure
When Jesus ascended the mountain to
pray, when suddenly the world was revealed in its dazzling eternity, so that
the glory of days gone by mixed with the glory of the days to come, so that
Moses and Elijah were seen confiding with Jesus—which is but a wonderful
illustration of what we have seen all along, for hasn’t Jesus always been
consulting the Law and the Prophets of Jewish scripture, texts which are here
represented by the leading figures within them, Moses and Elijah?—when all of
this happens, the stupefied Peter proposes preserving this glory and staying
put. He exclaims, “It’s so good to
be here! Let’s put up walls,
roofs, buildings—we could stay!” (cf. 9:33). But even as he’s talking, a cloud overshadows him and then
encloses him, a tangible reminder of God’s mystery. Just as a heavy fog on Afton Mountain can obscure our vision
and bring us to a near halt on the highway, so in ancient Jewish tradition God
is sometimes represented as a dark cloud, a mystery that halts us in our
tracks, a mystery that we cannot fathom.
What could Peter not fathom? What did he not understand? All the while he’s talking about
building and staying put, Jesus and Moses and Elijah are talking about the
exact opposite. As scripture tells
us: “[they] were speaking of [Jesus’] departure,
which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem” (9:31). Peter wants to stay put. Jesus and Moses and Elijah are making
plans for a departure.
What departure, exactly? In this scene, Moses and Elijah and
Jesus talk about departure as something that will happen in Jerusalem. Because Jesus has already anticipated
his death in Jerusalem, it seems likely that departure serves here as a
euphemism for his death. But in
the Greek, that word “departure” is exodus. So we might guess that departure actually
has a deeper meaning here. It could
mean deliverance. That is
certainly what the exodus meant for Moses and the Israelites.
As we are left to ponder this
mystery, the story departs from the scene resolutely. The dazzle darkens, the glory disappears, and Jesus and his
trusted disciples go down the mountain.
The next day is the stark opposite of mountaintop glory. It’s dirt and difficulty. We see a man foaming at the mouth; we
see Jesus’ disciples faithless and helpless; we see Jesus’ patience tested, we
see him bemoaning all the trouble and trials of an unbelieving generation. But in the midst of all this, we also see
healing. Peter may have been
astounded by the glory of God on the mountaintop, but the last words of this
passage suggests that something even better has happened in Jesus’ departure,
in his descent into the darkness, dirt, and difficulty: “And all were astounded at the greatness of
God” (9:43).
Mercy Is on the Move
I cannot help but see a kindred
spirit in Peter. When good times
are here, we want nothing more than to preserve them. It’s only natural.
Conversely, when difficult times arrive, we look back longingly to the
mountaintop moments, wondering why we didn’t stay, wondering what went wrong.
The dark cloud that halts Peter
in his tracks, halts me too in mine.
I realize that when I look for the glory, when I try to preserve it,
I’ve missed the point. I’m
mistaken. What Jesus on the
mountaintop teaches me is that the glory is not a stationary thing. If glory’s not on the go, if it’s not
marked by departure, then it’s not glory. If mercy is not on the move, then it’s not mercy. We see this today in the life of Jesus,
but it’s as old as the story of God and humanity, as old as Abraham, who was
told simply to “go” and be a blessing to others, as old as the Israelites whose
existence is characterized perhaps best by journeying in the wilderness,
sojourning among foreign nations, living on the road.
The expression “traveling
mercies” is more profound than it knows. For it means not simply the mercies we hope for ourselves on
the road. It means more deeply
that mercy is meant to be on the move, that real mercy only ever happens on the
road, when we share ourselves with others, when in dark and difficult moments
where our patience is tried we nevertheless bless others and offer the healing
of our loving touch. Traveling
mercies means that the mercies of God are not found at a final destination, but
in a continual departure.
Traveling mercies makes me ask:
Where am I going? What am I called
to leave behind? What is holding
me back from being faithful?
In an age of sharp and profound
cultural shifts, these questions may be helpful for the church at large to
ask. I can only speak personally,
but from my conversations with peers I believe very strongly that the younger
generations share a deep spiritual thirst. But they are not finding it quenched at church. Could it be that sometimes churches are
more concerned to preserve the way things are than they are to move out and touch
the need of the world. Could it be
that they are more interested in seeing their own structures succeed, than they
are in seeing the kingdom of God?
I must confess I am struck by how little of “church” today—meaning a
building, an order of service, the structure of roles and responsibilities—how
little of this actually discussed or defined in scripture. There is much about church that has
changed in its first two millennia, and much that will change yet. While I cannot see the future or know
what exactly that change will look like, I do sense a call, and it’s one of
departure. It’s one of going down
the mountainside and touching the need of the world. It’s one of death of resurrection, departure and
deliverance.
Prayer
Mysterious God
Who is always on the move—
How grateful we are
For this church,
For all the ways
We have encountered your love
In this family of faith.
Inspire us with wonder
At your next departure,
At where your grace and glory
Are moving.
Embolden us to join you
Down the mountain.
In Christ, our companion. Amen.
[1] Tim,
“traveling mercies,” https://www.dictionaryofchristianese.com/traveling-mercies/,
accessed February 25, 2019.
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