The Fading of Glory, the Glory of Fading

Feast of the Transfiguration, Year C
Text: Ex 34.29-35; 2 Cor 3.12-4.2; Lk 9.28-45

Has there ever been a time when you have unmistakably felt the presence of God? Think back to that moment. What were you doing? Who was with you? Were you at worship? In nature, watching a storm or a sunset? Witnessing the birth of a child?

What did God’s presence in that moment feel like? Was it a sensation of warmth? Of lightness? Of peace? Where did you feel it? Your head? Your chest? Your fingertips?

How did you respond? Did you laugh? Cry? Gasp? Sing?

If you’ve never had a moment like that, have you ever wished for one? Have you ever prayed for one? Have you ever heard people’s stories of their own moments and felt grief or shame or jealousy at not having your own? What would you give to have a moment like that, when just for just a few, fleeting seconds, you could know that God is real and present and at your side?

A Dark Text

1st Sunday in Advent, Year C
Texts: Jer 33.14-16; 1 Thess 3.9-13; Lk 21.25-36

When we read this gospel lesson in Bible Study this week, the first comment was, “Wow, that’s dark.” This is a dark text; it may be hard not to feel a bit frightened or discouraged by it. Nations confused by the roaring of the waves, people fainting from fear and fleeing to escape calamity, the powers of heaven themselves—the sun, moon and stars—being shaken. Maybe it’s hard for you to hear any good news in this; nothing Jesus talks about sounds like anything we’d be anxious to experience. And yet, he says, “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” That’s all we have to hang our hat on in these dark, bleak images: the vague assurance that somehow it heralds the coming of our redemption.