Bringing the Mountaintop Down to Earth

A sermon preached at Faith Episcopal Church, February 26, 2006.

I have been an Olympics geek for as long as I can remembe, probably because my Dad is one too. I remember watching the opening ceremonies as a family and being enchanted by the idea of the athletes of the world coming together in the midst of the Cold War. They could play together and compete against each other even as our respective governments kept the tension fueled by fear. There they were marching in together – the Americans always looking so fresh-faced and wholesome – the quintessential American youth – I loved it. In the early days of my Olympic love-affair it was all for the glory of the sport. Any hint of professionalism could get you booted from competition. If you weren’t there for the pure love of the sport you were somehow sullying the event with something as tawdry as money. Idealistic but not very realistic.

The Olympics were also an opportunity to watch sports in which I had absolutely no interest like bobsledding or biathalon – that strange combination of skiing and shooting. And then there’s the luge –which is not quite like the good old days of belly flopping onto your sled – a red flyer if you were one of the cool kids and hoping you were still hanging on by the time it got to the bottom of the hill. No the luge is a “feet-first, crash-helmet mandatory screaming down a twisting frozen chute at frightening speeds” kind of sledding. One of my favorite Olympic stories involves the luge. The first year that one of the Koreas sent a team to compete in the winter Olympics, it was a team of one. They had formed an Olympic committee, but alas, they had no athletes, no skiers, no figure skaters, certainly no hockey team but they had one guy – one poor schmo who sat watching films of all the winter sports trying to figure out which one he might try and low and behold, he sees the luge – and he says “I think I could do that one.” So they bought him a luge and a helmet and a plane ticket sent him off to the Olympic winter wonderland. His goal was to make it down to the bottom of the run and still be in contact with his sled all so his country could be represented. On his final run, he achieved his goal – he wasn’t actually on his sled but he was still holding on to it. He became the darling of the lugers – even the well funded medal winning Germans got caught up in his bravery and determination. That’s the spirit of the Olympics and it’s why I love it.

This year has had it’s share of stories, conflicts, and that whole new breed of winter Olympic athletes on center stage – the snowboarders. They wear the baggy clothes and compete with their i-Pods pumping extreme music assaulting their eardrums. There was a crabby column in the Times this week trying to make the case that these sports didn’t belong because, well, the athletes didn’t really seem to care if they won the gold or not. When Lindsey Jacobellis came in second after a fall caused by a bit of pre-finish line celebrating her response was “I having fun. I mess up. Oh well, it happens.” Somehow this was unforgivable in a “winning is the only thing that matters” climate. But it sounds more to me like the idea of coming together for the love of it.

One really good story from the world of speed skating is Joey Cheek – a Carolina boy who won a gold and a silver medal. He pledged to give his $40,000 bonus earnings to an organization called Right to Play which promotes health and opportunities for children in Africa, the Middle East and Asia. Joey wants his donation to go to Sudanese refugees living in Chad. He said “After years of training and years of people sacrificing so I can be the best in the world, I feel that it is imperative for…anyone who’s able to reach a pinnacle of their career…to reach out a hand and help somebody else.” Since he made his contribution Joey’s corporate sponsors have pledged more than $250,000 and individual donors have pushed it past $300,000. The number of people that visited the website of Right to Play jumped from 10,000 to 90,000 in one day. That’s a great Olympic story.

Now you might be asking, “What does this have to do with why we are here?” Our lessons were all about the Transfiguration. Before the eyes of Peter, James and John, Jesus was transfigured into a glowing being of light, accompanied by Moses and Elijah. It’s definitely one of those stories to which we are to respond– “What do we learn here?” not “Did it really happen?” Because even if it really did happen exactly as the story claims, on it’s surface, it has very little impact on our understanding and our lives. We already know that Jesus’ is the Son, beloved of God. The story loses some of its drama when you already know the final chapters of Jesus story. So for us to find meaning out of it we must see it through the experience of the three over-eager disciples. They are excited by this vision of Jesus with the greatest prophets known to their people. It clarifies things for them about who he is and what he is. They feel included in a new way and they are eager to have that continue. That’s why they offer to build little houses. Like many people who experience a high – the high becomes a goal unto itself. “Just let me keep feeling this way.” Let me always be the popular kid, the BMOC or the Olympic gold medalist. Allowing one moment to define your life is rarely successful. It’s what you do in response to those big moments that defines your character and describes your faith.

The glory of the mountain top is food for our souls. Up there, the mystery and majesty of God is revealed. Such a moment can take your breath away. To grow spiritually, we need those glimpses of heaven but we also need the struggles of the low places. They bring clarity to each other. The promise of heaven sustains us in times of trial. The trials help us to appreciate profoundly God’s gracious desire to dwell with us. All things considered, I’d prefer more mountaintops but I know that all of my best qualities have been formed in of the valleys. Is it any wonder that Peter wanted to horde the moment and make it last forever.

Joey Cheek found a way to bring his moment of glory down to earth and to share it. I can’t think of any better way to interpret the story of the transfiguration. Expect startling moments of grace, embrace them fully, be grateful for them, carry them with you and let them strengthen you to love God and your neighbor. That’s worthy of an Alleluia!