Doorway to the Divine

[getty src="859694988" width="549" height="314" tld="com"]embedded courtesy of Getty Images“Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray.” – Luke 9:28 Perhaps you’ve read The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, a series of fantasy novels that may be read as Christian-themed allegory.   Several stage and film adaptations have kept the story fresh for new generations. If you’ve never read a book or seen a film, then you’re missing something really good.The novel that opens the series is entitled The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. The plot involves the adventures of four children named Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy.  In order to escape the Nazi bombing of their English city, they are evacuated to the countryside home of an old professor named Digory Kirk.  While playing in the home, Lucy enters a wardrobe, the old freestanding kind of wooden cabinet used to hang clothing.  But this isn’t just any ordinary wardrobe. It turns out to be what the Irish might have called a “thin place” between this world and another. For as Lucy pushes back further into the wardrobe, she emerges in the land of Narnia. Eventually, Lucy and her siblings will find themselves leading an army against the White Witch, and serving the Lion King Aslan.  But, at first visit, Lucy isn’t quite sure what has happened. She finds herself in misty, white, snow-filled realm where legendary characters that aren’t supposed to exist DO exist, half-man half-goat fauns, and talking beavers. She is filled with amazement and wonder.In the ninth chapter of Luke’s gospel, we read about a moment not all that different that occurred in the life of Jesus’ disciple Simon Peter (and John and James).  Peter has played a major role in supporting Jesus’ ministry of teaching, preaching, and healing.  Gradually, he has become aware that opposition to Jesus’ teaching is increasing among society’s leaders.  He has listened with concern as Jesus predicts his tragic fate at Jerusalem, and he wonders what he could possibly do to make things turn out all right. Accompanying Jesus up the mountain to pray, he falls into a fitful sleep.As Peter awakens, I imagine that, like little Lucy, he must wonder about what strange new place he has entered, or whether he is dreaming.  What he sees is a misty world in which Jesus walks among Israel’s legendary characters – Moses the great lawgiver, and Elijah the mighty prophet.  After all the doubts, all the work and trouble, now there is a visible confirmation of God’s blessing.  For Peter, it’s as if he has entered the magical land of Narnia. He offers to pitch tents for the holy trio, saying, “Master, it is good for us to be here.”But, then, a major shift takes place. The magical moment passes. Like our Transfiguration hymn says, “Swiftly pass the clouds of glory …” Jesus ascends the mountain and there is a mystical moment. But, then he goes down the mountain to serve others, and he calls his disciples to follow him. It’s not easy for Peter to move from witnessing the beauty of the Transfiguration on the mountaintop to participating in the messiness of serving others with Jesus down in the valley.A Presbyterian preacher I admire named Michael Lindvall suggests that Peter faces an important choice on the mountaintop.^[1]  The special moment he experiences on the mountaintop – this holy, surreal, beautiful, visionary moment – can orient him in one of two directions. He can use the memory of this sacred moment to escape, to live in the past, to passively smile and remember a golden time that becomes increasingly distant from today’s reality.  Or he can use the memory of the transfiguration as nourishment to face the future, as inspiration to participate in God’s continuing work of transformation.Peter’s experience is an archetype of one faced by all Christians.  We can relish the memory of the past, and build a tabernacle as a monument.  We can cherish the past so much that we escape living in the present, and neglect to plan for the future.  Or we can be inspired by the memory of the past to follow Jesus down the mountain.  We can use the past as nourishment to face a future that is uncertain, but is the future of meaning and purpose for which we were created.It’s sort of the like the choice faced by a friend of mine who lives in another state, who lost his job as a result of corporate restructuring. He’d seen it coming for six months. But it was still a shock when it happened. He was given a few hours to collect his personal items and say goodbye. Then, with a cardboard box, he was escorted to the security office, turned in his badge and keys, and signed out. Years of relationships and activity were over, just like that.The routine that followed was rather depressing. Each day, instead of leaving for work, he said good-bye to his family. He would spend a few hours pursuing job leads and writing notes, then a few hours working on household chores. He wasn’t sure what difference his efforts were making. Each afternoon, when he felt tired and anxious, he would go on a long walk through the fields and woods.One cold, gray afternoon, he spotted a curious lump in a ditch. Approaching it, he found a cat sprawled out, seemingly too weak to do anything. He talked to the cat a few minutes, but nothing he did would coax it to move.He couldn’t leave the cat there. He took off the fleece jacket he was wearing under his coat, gingerly wrapped the cat in it, and carried it home. He made a bed for it in his pole barn, under a table, and put out some food, water, and a tray of kitty litter. He turned on a portable heater, plugged in a small night light, and left the cat there for the night.During the next several days, the cat’s condition slowly improved. My friend would check on the cat first thing in the morning, and last thing at night. When it was strong enough to venture outside, the cat didn’t stray far.My friend thought about the obvious parallels between the cat and himself. The cat probably had belonged to someone, been abandoned, or gotten lost in the woods. It found itself out in the cold, no easy food or water source. When discovered in the ditch, maybe the cat was remembering its former home, the love of its humans, the warmth of its bed. And he thought that if this cat could recover from its abandonment, then so could he. In saving the cat, somehow he was saving himself.My friend faced a choice, as Peter faced a choice, and as each of us faces a choice about our orientation to life’s challenges. We can retreat to the memories of a more golden time, and try to insulate ourselves from the pain of the world. Or, we can be inspired by the good and beautiful things we’ve experienced in the past to approach today’s problems, to follow Jesus down the mountain to perform transforming acts of kindness and service, maybe even save ourselves in the process.  Nothing is lost if we try. Much might be lost if we don’t.NOTES[1]Michael Lindvall, sermon preached at “Reclaiming the Text” Conference, Montreat, NC, 31 May 2006.