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A Sermon Preached at St. Christopher's Episcopal Church, Oak Park, IL
on the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, February 3, 2008 (Year A, RCL)
by the Rev. Paris Coffey

"While (Peter) 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!'" - Matthew 17:5

In the 14th century an anonymous Christian mystic wrote a spiritual guidebook called, The Cloud of Unknowing. In it the author suggested that in order to KNOW God, seekers needed to rein in their drive to know. "Our intense need to understand," wrote the mystic, "will always be a powerful stumbling block to our attempts to reach God . . . It will," he or she warned the novice, "undermine your quest, (replacing true encounter with God) with clear images of something which, however good . . . beautiful . . . (or) Godlike, is not God." God, the author insisted, could only be known by "a sharp dart of love," not by human reason alone, which means we are called to relinquish what we think we know, to make room for a God who surpasses human knowing.

This is what the apostle Peter had apparently discovered when he wrote, as we heard in today's Epistle, that prophecy and interpretation of scripture depend not just on human will or intellect, but on openness to the Spirit. Peter is not saying we have to ignore the gift of reason God has given us. He is, however, inviting a kind of humility that's not always readily apparent in human beings - especially religious scholars. Many scholars, including clergy, think it's their JOB to know, at least until age begins to works its magic, turning experts into penitents who - about the age of fifty - realize that they know far less than they thought they did.

Such was the case with Thomas Aquinas, a famous 13th century theologian and writer, who at the age of fifty had a mystical encounter with God and never picked up a pen again. It was not his first mystical experience, but was arguably his most transforming, for prior to this, Aquinas had written over 100 theological works and was writing his masterpiece, Summa Theologica, at the time of his encounter. Afterwards, though, Aquinas said, "Such things have been revealed to me that all that I have written seems as so much straw." He never completed his masterpiece, and three months later, he died.

It is a story that, at the age of 57, resonates with me, although not to the degree that I'm willing to sit down and shut up. After all, I also resonate with Peter who scurries around seeking some sensible response to the Transfiguration. "Let's DO something," Peter says when confronted with this mystery on the mountaintop, while God says, "Just sit down and listen." Actually, before God says anything God envelops Peter, James and John in a cloud of unknowing. As Matthew writes, "While (Peter) 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!'" And they listen. In fact, overcome with fear, the disciples fall to the ground in stunned silence.

It's a fitting response to an encounter with the mysterious presence of God, and yet Jesus doesn't want his followers to be overwhelmed by God, but simply to listen. Consequently he does a tender thing; he reaches down and touches them, saying, "Get up and do not be afraid." After all, when we're crouching on the ground with our fingers over our eyes trying to hide from what we do not understand, we can't know God any more intimately than when we're scurrying around trying to manage God. And God longs to be known more intimately, calling us along with Peter, James and John, to stop rushing around or cowering on the ground so that we can listen to and KNOW the God revealed in Jesus Christ.

And what is revealed first is love. "This is my Son, the Beloved," says God, "listen to him." Listen to his words, his works, his life, his death - and know, too, that you are loved. So often what we hear when we listen to God - or think we hear - is that we are wretched sinners, and yet sin is never God's starting point; love is. What God came in the flesh to reveal is NOT that we are sinners. Most of know already know that, even if we try our best to keep it hidden. Rather, what God came to reveal is that we are loved. "YOU are my beloved, with whom I am well pleased," God says to each of us. And this is God's starting point - what God asks us to hear.

In fact, on this Last Sunday after the Epiphany - the last Sunday before Lent - it is particularly important for us hear that we are God's beloved, for only then can we face the harshness of sin. "You are my son/my daughter," says God. "You are my beloved, with whom I am well pleased." Can you hear it? Listen. God is speaking to YOU. In fact, I invite you to close your eyes if you are comfortable doing so, for just TWO minutes of silence so that you can hear what God is saying. Close your eyes and hear, "YOU are my beloved, with YOU I am well pleased."

Now open you eyes. How was that? Could you hear God's love for you, or did you experience resistance? Many people experience resistance, wanting to argue that God cannot be well pleased with them because of such and so. For those who experienced such resistance I want to close with a little story.

It's a story told by Jesuit priest and author Anthony de Mello who writes, "I was a neurotic for years. I was anxious and depressed and selfish. Everyone kept telling me to change. I resented them and I agreed with them, and I wanted to change, but simply couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. What hurt the most was that, like the others, my best friend kept insisting that I change. So I felt powerless and trapped. Then one day he said to me, 'Don't change. I love you just as you are.' Those words were music to my ears: 'Don't change. Don't change. Don't change . . . I love you as you are.' I relaxed. I came alive. And suddenly I changed! Now I know that that I couldn't really change until I found someone who would love me whether I changed or not. Is this how you love me, God?" ¹

The answer, of course, is yes, for as God said to Jesus, God also says to us, "YOU are my beloved; with YOU I am well pleased."

Amen.

1. Anthony de Mello, "Don't Change," The Song of the Bird (Image Books Doubleday, New York: 1984), p.67-68.