“Silent witness: a Cloud”
Mark 9:7
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus.
A little over fifty years ago, back in May of 1969, Candian-born singer and songwriter Joni Mitchell recorded a song called, Both Sides, Now. As soon as she released it, critics raved about it, calling it, “an essential release,” and “a stark stunner, a great leap forward for Joni Mitchell.” And ever since then, it’s been recorded by quite a lot of others, including Judy Collins, Willie Nelson, and Frank Sinatra. Even Leonard Nimoy, “Spock,” sang it for his album, The Way I Feel. It’s #170 on the list of the 500 greatest songs of all time.
You know how it goes: “Rows and flows of angel hair/And ice cream castles in the air/And feather canyons everywhere./I’ve looked at clouds that way...I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now/From up and down and still somehow/It’s cloud’s illusions I recall./I really don’t know clouds at all.”
In our gospel reading for today from the book of Mark, we hear about a cloud. But this one isn’t like any one we’ll ever see in our sky.
I’ll begin at verse 2: “And after six days Jesus took with Him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And He was transfigured before them, and His clothes became radiant, intensely white, as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, and they were talked with Jesus. And Peter said to Jesus, ‘Rabbi, it is good that we are here. Let us make three tents, one for You and one for Moses and one for Elijah.’ For he did not know what to say, for they were terrified. And a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice came out of the cloud, ‘This is My beloved Son; listen to Him.’ And suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone with them but Jesus only” (Mark 9:2-8).
Let’s step back for a moment to see what’s going on.
It had been a long journey to the northern end of Palestine at the end of three long, tumultuous years.
But what incredible years they had been! Thousands had heard Him speak. Hundreds felt His healing touch.
And how can you put into words the thrill of lepers cleansed, the deaf who could hear, and the blind who could see? Or the demon-possessed freed from Satan’s bondage and the absolute dead raised to life. What an incredible three years they had been!
But there was always that sword hanging over their heads. Jesus had made it perfectly clear. He said: “I must go to Jeruslaem, and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, the chief priests, and the teachers of the Law, and I must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.”
So it didn’t seem that strange at all that He wanted to take some time to get away. It was a long journey--six days--to that cool, quiet mountain on the northern edge of Palestine. But it was a good, quiet place, far from the crowds, to get away and get some rest.
And as that small, weary bunch of travelers made their way up that mountain, they built a fire, then sat down to catch their breath. And as the sun dipped below the horizon and day turned to night, the stars began to shine and the flames crackled in the night.
And as Jesus often did, He suddenly stood up and walked away, about a stone’s throw, to pray to His Father in heaven.
It was a remarkable thing to see Jesus pray. There was a communion, a fellowship, He had with His Father, like no other one on earth. “Abba,” He called Him. It was a name that meant, “Daddy.”
That’s when, all of a sudden, out of the corner of their eye, they saw light coming from where Jesus stood.
And that was strange. The sun had already set, and stars were filling the night sky, so where could this strange light be coming from?
And as they squinted through the darkness toward Jesus, they could hardly believe their eyes. English translations use the word, “transfigured,” but how can anyone describe anything like this? Jesus’ face shone like the sun and His clothes became as white as a flash of light.
And as they stumbled over to see Him, they saw two men standing and talking with Him. Just a moment ago, there had been only one--Jesus. Now there were three. Who were these bright, shining men?
Moses?! Raised in Pharaoh’s court, exiled to the fields and flocks of Midian, called to confront Egypt and lead Israel out of bondage to freedom, who brought more than a million people through a forty-year trek across barren wilderness, who served God’s people as both prophet and priest, who, better than any other man, knew God face to face.
And Elijah, who single-handedly fought against a king and a queen to rout a nation’s idolatry, who spoke words of bold judgment--zeal personified--who killed the prophets of Baal, and was taken up to heaven in a whirlwind and a chariot of fire.
And why were they there? To show that Jesus was the One of whom they spoke, the embodiment of the Old Testament making way for the fulfillment of the New.
And what did they talk about as they stood in that brilliant, miraculous light? Just one thing--Jesus’ departure, His death, His victory that would soon come to pass in Jerusalem. Finally, everything He hoped for and everything He lived for, He would accomplish, and then go home.
And what did Peter say? He didn’t know what to say. Besides, what do you say at a time like this? In fear and awe, yet so thrilled, he blurted out and said, “Lord, I can hardly believe my eyes! Just say the word, and I’ll build three shelters--one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. Don’t worry about us. We’ll sleep outside. But I’ll do anything just to stay in the Father’s presence and stand in this incredible light.”
But just as soon as the words fell from his lips, a cloud wrapped itself around them, and a voice boomed like thunder: “This is My Son, whom I love; with Him I am well pleased. Listen to Him!”
“A cloud,” it said.
We know about clouds. If I can take you back for a moment to your days in high school, you’ll remember those big, puffy, fluffy, cotton ball clouds. We call them cumulus clouds. Or think of those thin, wispy, so high-in-the-sky clouds. Those are cirrus clouds.
But the ones that really get our attention are the ones we call cumulonimbus clouds. They’re the kind that bring rain and hail and fierce lightning storms.
So what kind of cloud was this? I’d say it wasn’t any of the three. Instead, it was the power and the promise of the presence of God.
Remember? Just as soon as Noah and his family and all the animals stepped off the ark, God said, “I have set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth” (Genesis 9:13).
When the people made their way through the wilderness toward the Promised Land, a cloud led them by day, and a pillar of fire at night. When they built a tabernacle, a place to worship God, the Bible says a cloud so thick filled it, Moses couldn’t even go inside. Then when he climbed up that mountain, Mt. Sinai, a cloud covered it for six days. And on the seventh day, the Lord called to him from inside that cloud. And when Jesus rose up from the Jordan and the Spirit descended like a dove, a voice thundered from a cloud, saying, “This is My beloved Son, My Chosen One.”
This is no cotton ball cloud, and neither is it a thin, wispy, high-in-the-sky cloud. This is the presence of God cloud. It’s the shekinah. It’s the brilliant, shining glory of God.
No wonder the Bible says, “For he did not know what to say, for they were terrified” (Mark 9:6).
This transfiguration, as strange and miraculous as it is, is a good lesson for us today. It serves as a bridge from one season to the next, from the glory of Epiphany to the sorrow and sadness of Lent. It speaks of a change that will soon take place. No longer will Jesus be the One to teach the multitudes and heal the sick. Now He’ll suffer under Pontius Pilate, be crucified, die, and be buried. It’ll be an incredibly sad and painful journey, but it will end in victory.
We too need to see God’s glory as we face difficult times. We need to remember that God is with us even when we experience testing and loss. We need to see Christ’s transfiguration so we can know that, no matter what, God is with us and we are safe.
Maybe there’s another way to read this text. Mark wrote, “After six days Jesus took with Him Peter, James, and John, and led them up a high mountain by themselves.” But we could just as well read it, “Jesus took us with Him too.”
Just like Peter, James, and John, we too are witnesses of Christ’s transfiguration. Through faith we see Him stand in glory. And His glory gives us strength.
The Swiss would have been the first to reach the top of Mt. Everest back in 1952, but bad weather stopped them cold just eight hundred feet from the summit. Then the very next year, in 1953, John Hunt assembled a group of four hundred porters and guides with ten thousand pounds of supplies, and began their assault on the mountain.
On May 26th, two members of the expedition came within three hundred feet, but were forced to turn back when their oxygen system failed. That left only two others--Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay--who finally managed to finish the climb.
And on May 29th at 11:30 in the morning, Hillary and Norgay reached the gop. As Hillary put it, “A few more whacks of the ice axe in the firm snow, and Tenzing and I stood on top.”
And after spending some fifteen minutes on the summit, they took some pictures, then headed back down.
But before they left the top of that mountain, they left two things. Norgay left some chocolates in the snow, and Hillary, at 29,032 feet, the highest point on earth, left a cross.
How awesome it is to know that such glory dwells in Christ and that Christ dwells in us. And as we come down from the mountain, as we take our weak, unsteady steps toward home, we know Jesus is with us. And because He is with us, we are safe.
Today, dear Father, as we stood with Jesus on the top of a mountain, we’ve caught a glimpse of the wonder and the beauty of heaven. Help us to know the power and the promise of our risen Lord, as we live and work on the plain. This we ask in His name. Amen