A Thin Place

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

February 23, 2020

Last Epiphany A

In the Celtic tradition a "thin place" is a place where earth and heaven draw close.  I encountered such a thin place years ago when I spent a day on Holy Island in England, also known as Lindisfarne, where an ancient monastery was located and where the ruins still stand.  Part of the outside wall of the monastery is still intact, and there are markers to show where the monks prayed, worked, ate, and slept on the inside.  The construction of the monastery in the 13th or 14th century was an epic engineering feat as even the ruins show the skeleton of a magnificent stone edifice.  The part of the English reformation that we would prefer to forget is the part where the monasteries were ransacked, often for the lead in the roofs to be used for weapons, and the stone walls left to be re-purposed by whoever could haul away the rocks.  As I walked through the areas where the monks lived and prayed hundreds of years ago, in a space that was now destroyed, I realized that there was still a sense of deep peace there.  The ground that had soaked up the prayers of the faithful all those years ago still held those prayers.  The reformers could destroy the building, but they could not take the prayers of the faithful from the soil.  Between the howling of the wind and the ruins of what was once a great house of faith, I was reminded both of the words of Ash Wednesday "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return" and the powerful presence of God in the midst of the dust. 

A thin place is a place where the glory of God comes so close we can almost touch it, right here on earth.  Peter, James, and John had such an experience in this mornings’ gospel lesson, as did Moses in the reading from Exodus.  Their experiences, however, went far beyond any thin place I have ever known.  Moses went up the mountain, which was covered by a cloud, and God appeared to Moses like a devouring fire.  Jesus led Peter, James, and John up a high mountain where Jesus was transfigured.  His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.  Then Moses and Elijah, the recipient of the law and the foremost of the prophets, appear with Jesus.  Clearly heaven and earth have met!

Peter takes a lot of grief for wanting to build three dwellings on the mountain-one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.  Some say that Peter wants to hold onto the moment forever and live in this thin place eternally.  We all know that’s not possible.  Some say that Peter is just speaking without thinking, yet again.  Just one chapter ago, when Jesus predicted his suffering, death and resurrection, Peter rebuked Jesus for even thinking such a thing, to which Jesus replied “Get behind me, Satan!”  So, Peter’s track record of thinking before he speaks is not good.  Still others say that Peter is so overcome by the experience, he has no idea what to do but feels the need to do something.  We’ve all probably been there before.

However, I think something else may be going on in Peter’s offer to build three dwellings.  First, Peter was a fisherman, not a carpenter, so he is likely offering to do something rather beyond his skill set.  But secondly, and far more importantly, Peter offers to build dwellings for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah only.  Peter is not looking to stay on the mountain with them.  Perhaps, recognizing that he is in the presence of the ancestors, Peter is simply offering hospitality to those who appear before him.  Perhaps, in this thin place, Peter is moved beyond his ability to make a home for the three men to shelter them from the wilderness of the mountain.  Jesus does not rebuke Peter for his offer or decline his hospitality.  Before anyone can do or say anything, a bright cloud overshadows them and they hear the voice of God say “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased.  Listen to him.”  This is the same voice, saying the same thing, that was heard at Jesus’ baptism.  And what does Jesus say to the terrified disciples?  “Get up and do not be afraid.”

Today is one of my favorite Sundays of the church year.  We sing great hymns and we bury the Alleluias, which is both joyful and poignant.  We allow ourselves a mini-mountain top experience before we enter the wilderness of Lent.  And every year we hear the story of Jesus’ transfiguration on this Sunday-the last Sunday before Ash Wednesday.  Part of the reason we hear this story before we enter the Lenten wilderness is to be reminded of the glory of God that will triumph over Jesus’ suffering and death. This morning, Jesus orders the disciples to say nothing about what they have seen until he has been raised from the dead.  The three disciples likely had no clue what that meant.  But we do and we hold on to the promise of Easter as we enter into Lent. 

However much we await God’s glory to be revealed on Easter, stories of thin places in scripture remind us that the glory of God is also revealed in the wilderness.  This morning, Jesus took the three disciples up a high mountain, which is itself a wilderness.  Moses went up on the mountain, in the middle of the wilderness, where he encountered the glory of God.  The glory of God will be revealed on the cross, even as Jesus says “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.”  The wilderness can also be a thin place where the glory of God is revealed. 

Perhaps Lent is such a wilderness, where we are sent for a season to experience the glory of God without all of the alleluias, metaphorical and literal.  Perhaps Lent is the wilderness into which we are sent outside our comfort zones and to offer hospitality to Jesus just as Peter wanted to on the mountain.  We offer Jesus the hospitality of our hearts as well as the hospitality of our lives as we seek to offer shelter to Jesus in the various wildernesses of the world-places where there is no peace, where people are in need of  basic human provisions like food, shelter, and medical care, places where people grieve or are separated from one another by distance, anger, distrust, or seeming difference.  How might we, like Peter, go beyond our comfortable skill set to offer Jesus hospitality?  In what ruins might we find Jesus this Lent?  For in the dust of those ruins, the glory of God is revealed.

                                                                   Amen