It's Transfiguration Sunday Again. Yawn. Mark 9: 2 - 9

I have been trying mightily to get students interested in a workshop on spiritual autobiography that we are offering here next week. It has been an uphill journey. Add to that the fact that the event falls just after Ash Wednesday, another excuse for many Protestants to yawn, and the task becomes that much more challenging. It is relatively rare that my constituents get terribly excited about events dealing with faith. They are so busy with classes and social events that there is precious little room (desire?) in their lives for other events that require an hour of their time in what is already an over-scheduled week. In the past couple of weeks I have been made acutely aware of how little some members of this community who are not students understand the nature of the work that I do here.
Having said all of that, the Sunday of the Transfiguration should be anything but a yawn. Sure, it's a bit of a stretch to understand the imagery portrayed by Mark. After all, the events described therein can cause one to wonder if drug use was prevalent in biblical times. Who else has such visions? Well, we do, actually. Or, to be more exact, we can. Have you ever been walking along on a certain type of day when you become aware, quite suddenly, of the perfection of everything around you? I have had several of those epiphanies, and they have almost always occurred on a country road in the summertime, when every flower bends in just such a way in the breeze, and cattle graze happily nearby, and I can hear nothing but the deafening silence of that perfect place. I have begun to think of those moments of vision as a gift from God, a way of reminding me of how fortunate I am to have all that I have, and to remind me as well that I am never alone, even though it feels that way sometimes. The most important element in the story of the Transfiguration may be that Jesus came down off the mountain and bid his disciples to do the same. They could not stay in that seemingly perfect place, but they could use that experience to steady themselves when the going got tough. And, as we know, it was about to get very tough, for everyone. We may lament the fact that we are not granted such an audience as Peter, James and John were given on that mountain. But the fact that they were allowed to have that glimpse of the divine realm should energize us for our Lenten journey, and instill in us a sense that this time of the liturgical year is anything but a big yawn. So, look around this week, your moment to be awestruck is about to become manifest. You will have your own epiphany and God will get your attention. But only if you are looking, not yawning.