Suffering

 

There is so much suffering to be found in the readings set for Evening Prayer this Sunday before Lent, 2 Kings 2:1-12 and Matthew 17:9-23. In the first, Elisha is weighed down by the knowledge that his master, Elijah, will be taken from him this day. Elisha had walked away from his family inheritance to become the great prophet’s apprentice, to be with him and learn from him, and now the Lord God was about to take Elijah from the face of the earth. As they make one last visit to the prophetic communities Elijah has mentored, those present take Elisha aside and enquire as to whether he is aware of what is about to take place. This must surely add to his burden: do the prophets see him only as Elijah’s servant, and not a prophet like them? His parting request to Elijah is that he be recognised as his heir, his successor. Yet, the company of prophets is also suffering, not only the loss of their mentor too, but also wanting to make everything better for Elisha, and knowing that they cannot, that there is nothing they can do to prevent this parting from happening.

In the Gospel passage, Jesus is approached by a father who is in distress over his son. The father describes him as a lunatic, who falls into fire or water with abandon. He had asked Jesus’ disciples to cure him, but they had not been able to do so. Jesus is distressed by the situation. The boy is not a lunatic, but afflicted by a demon (my English translation has the father claim he has epilepsy, with the unfortunate result that some see epilepsy as demonic). There is, to my knowledge, no cure for lunacy, but there is deliverance from oppression. This boy has suffered torment at the malicious hands of a demon, an angel who has rebelled against God and wars against the children God delights in. His suffering is multiplied by misunderstanding; and under this misunderstanding the father and the disciples also suffer their inability to take hold of the situation, to relieve everyone’s distress. Jesus, alone, stands on the promise of God through the prophet Isaiah, ‘When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.’ (Isaiah 43:2). He calls this mountain, this encounter with the living God, into his present valley of the shadow of death.

But in this same passage, Jesus speaks both of John the Baptist, who had been executed on a whim, and of his own impending torturous execution, and hope of being raised to life three days later. God does not shield us from all suffering (though I suspect that we are, indeed, shielded from some) but takes our suffering to himself in Jesus, that, ultimately, it may be transformed. That, ultimately, all that hurts or harms us will be utterly consumed in the fire of Love, until all that remains is a perfectly safe vulnerability, where we are seen, known, and loved, and see, know and love in return.

 

Transfiguration

 

One of my favourite Gospel passages for preaching from is Matthew 17.1-9,

‘Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.’ While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’ When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.’ And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

‘As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, ‘Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.’’

Note what Jesus does, the action words: he took…he led…he touched.

The Greek word translated ‘took’ is paralambanó, to take or receive from. Jesus receives Peter, James and John.

The Greek word translated ‘led’ is anapheró, to offer up as a sacrifice. Jesus carries his friends and presents them to his heavenly Father.

The Greek word translated ‘touched’ is haptomai, to lay hold of and, by touching, to change or modify. This is the power of touch: think of a fearful animal calmed by a vet, or a distressed child held by a loving adult.

The pattern we see here in this passage is the pattern we rehearse Sunday by Sunday in the eucharist.

On a table near the door, sits the ciborium containing the wafers for Communion. There is, approximately, one for everyone. This is part of the gifts of the people, a symbolic representation of our offering ourselves to Jesus and being received by him. At a certain point, the mid-point of the service, the ciborium is carried up the nave to the altar, along with the flagon of wine, and the (financial) collection plate. We then pray over these, the person who presides taking the bread in their hands and asking the Holy Spirit to do something transformative, that this bread may be for us the body of Jesus. That we might encounter Jesus here. Neither the bread nor the one who consumes it are changed in their substance; yet both are transfigured, such that the true body of Christ in the Father’s glory is revealed. When the one administering Communion places a wafer on the outstretched palm of the communicant, saying, ‘the body of Christ,’ they speak to a mystery that encompasses unleavened bread and recognises Christ in one another, the giver who is now receiving back and the receiver who is now giving away. This is Mystery, not to be laid bare by the understanding of the mind, but entered ever more fully into, heart and soul and mind and bodily strength.

Peter wants to prolong the moment, the ecstatic experience. But Jesus intends to receive and lead them back down the mountain, and give them for the healing of the world. For its transfiguration, the revealing of God’s glory in the human. Ultimately, he is heading to Jerusalem, and to torturous death, and resurrection. Immediately, he is going to bring peace to an anxious father and his troubled son. But his friends have been overcome by fear at hearing the voice of the living God address them from the luminous cloud, and so pre-eminently Jesus declares, Do not be afraid. Only then does he send them out.

Christ is our peace, the one who reconciles us to God. The one who receives us, lifts us up, transforms our lives by his touch, and sends us out into the world to love and serve him.