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Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had
stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as
they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let
us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"—not
knowing what he said.
Here we are, on our final Sunday together. I have been dreading this day for
weeks. Saying goodbye to you as your rector is a terribly, terribly hard thing to do.
None of us really like goodbyes, and here I am, saying one goodbye after another
to people I love so very much. And inside me there is a small, loud Peter, who is
saying, can’t we just stop this and stay here? Do we really have to proceed and
move on from this mountain? Why can’t we just build some dwellings – or
booths, as the old translation had it? Some nice booths? No?
I’ve been reflecting a lot on these last 10 years with you as rector – and the last 20
of being involved in St Michael’s in some way, as your associate, your friend, and
then your rector. 10 years sounds like a lot – 20 years sounds like forever. 2005
doesn’t seem like it should be that far off, but we were all quite different then.
When I look at my kids, who were born in 2006 and 2009, I see the elapsed time.
And when I look at photos of myself from when I came, well, I can see the elapsed
time too. I had my official photo portrait done this last week by the Rev David
Rider, whom some of you might remember, and beforehand we were trying to
decide what kind of pose it should be. I joked that it could be like the pictures of
saints who hold an attribute, something symbolic that tells a bit of their story – in
my case a copy of the master plan and a COVID mask. The master plan – well,
you’ve all heard me talk plenty about the construction and the noise, and yes, the
light and the glory of the whole thing. But COVID – when I began to reflect on the
time we’ve had, that part stuck out in a curious way.
In just a few weeks it will be 5 years since the COVID shutdown began. 5 years! So
it was sort of the midpoint of my time here. And despite the tragedy and fear of
those times, in some ways I think that time shaped St Michael’s for the better in
so many ways. Everyone had to slow down, so we weren’t so busy and rushed.
And because we were all shut in our homes, we realized how much we needed
community. And because we were all afraid, we felt more drawn to pray. So we
came together in prayer and worship services multiple times a day, and we
gathered in small groups where we told and listened to each others’ stories, and
people who were on the outskirts of the community were drawn in, and people
who hadn’t known each other at all well began to talk and became vulnerable to
each other. And something new was born of that. Something more real began to
happen in this community.
Not to mention our response at that same time to the murder of George Floyd –
when suddenly the reality of racial injustice hit everyone, we couldn’t distract
ourselves from it. We truly began to do our work on that as a congregation, with
the Sacred Ground and Being Black groups, and the reparations discernment
work, the scholarship and the reparations fund. And then, because the line of
people for Saturday Kitchen doubled in size, and we began serving them outside
in front of everybody, we realized how essential that ministry is to us, and how
much of a priority it is as we go forward. Our priorities and focus as a
congregation changed, or maybe more accurately, sharpened into focus. And
we’re still living into that focus with our money and our building project – pretty
permanent ways that is still shaping us.
So 2020 – a hard, strange time when we couldn’t go anywhere, we had to slow
down, we got real about injustice, and we needed each other – it changed us. And
something new came to pass, and we were transfigured into a new community.
The Transfiguration story we heard today is one of the stories that give rise to the
term ‘mountaintop experience.’ A mountaintop experience, classically speaking, is
an experience of joy and closeness with God, an awareness of God’s love, a time
that feeds us and sustains us as we go on through the journey of life. Usually we
mean by that a wonderful spiritual high, a kind of euphoria that we can be
reluctant to let go of. Obviously no one would call the COVID shutdown a
mountaintop experience in this sense. COVID wasn’t a time of joy and euphoria,
and we were very glad not to stay in it. And yet somehow God used that time to
nourish us and change us.
And let’s be honest, we couldn’t call our last 10 years together a mountaintop
experience either. I remember when I was discerning about coming here as your
rector, my mentor Nedi Rivera – whom you know – said, I think it will feel like
being hand and glove. It will feel easy. And it has felt that way. Which is not saying
it hasn’t been a hell of a lot of work. In our vestry meeting this week, when I listed
off everything we’ve done together in the 10 years, the vestry all wanted to take a
nap. We’ve done a lot. And I wouldn’t call it all euphoric or delightful or giddy. It
was hard, and there were hard conversations, and deep grief, and complicated
decisions, and did I mention all that noise and dust? And those stupid COVID
masks and preaching from my living room? No, it hasn’t been all strawberries and
cream.
But interestingly, the mountaintop experiences in the Bible aren’t all giddy and
delightful either. When Moses talks with God on the mountaintop, they argue
sometimes, Moses gets angry and breaks the first set of tablets, and something
about his face makes people terrified when he comes back into the camp. When
Elijah goes up the mountain with God, God assaults him with storm and thunder
and great wind before they finally meet each other in sheer silence. When the
disciples go with Jesus up the mountaintop, they’re exhausted, they’re confused,
and there’s something so eerie about the experience they can’t talk about it to
anyone. And in real life, I’ve been up mountains where I was too nauseous or cold
to really feel spiritual, and where I came close to falling to my death. For all that I
love mountains and for all that our scriptures love mountains, those times aren’t
straightforwardly positive. But they do change you.
So maybe a mountaintop experience really is a time when God reveals something
to us, maybe even in what is hard or complicated or difficult; a time when God
draws close to us and we experience God’s love, in joy and in sorrow; maybe a
time when God brings us together with other people to experience that love
together, and to care for each other. And also a time when God feeds our souls so
that we’re ready to move on and live into what’s coming next. And if that’s what
we can call a mountaintop experience, then I think it’s right to say these last
several years have been that for me here with you.
Our time together has fed us and nourished us and brought us deeper in God’s
love. I’m a better priest for being here with you, my prayer life is steadier and
richer, I’m more attentive to the moving of the Spirit in myself and in others I
work with, more sure about naming it when I see it. And I think you all in this
place have also deepened your roots in this time – not just in the external work
we can all see, but the internal work of spiritual growth, tapping into the living
water that fuels the work of service, healing, compassion, and witness that is
hardwired into this place. We are all the better for this time we have had
together. Ten years is a long time to stay on a mountain, and no, we can’t stay
here forever in our little booths, whatever those are. But we know that God is
with us. And we know that God will sustain us as we go forth from here, on our
separate ways.
I will be forever grateful that you called me back to be your rector. I loved being
here when I was your associate, but how much more wonderful it’s been to be
rector, to really travel this way together. I am shaped by this place more than I
even fully realize. I will miss you, and miss the beauty and color and life of this
community. And I am so glad we got to do this. I’m already a little envious of
whoever comes to travel with you next – and yes, today especially, I just want to
make a booth big enough for all of us to sit in and just love each other for a good
long time. But as I’ve learned, this faith of ours is all about movement, and
traveling on with God. Stay on the road and await further instructions – that’s
what the Holy Spirit told us so many years ago, speaking through a car’s
navigational system. And so we will do that. God bless you all as we go on to
what’s coming next.
