Matthew 17:1-9 | 2 Peter 1:16-21
Jeremy Richards
The modern church historian Robert Louis Wilken says, “Christian thinking is inescapably bound to the witness of others.”[1] He says in another place, “What we know of past events depends on the testimony of those who have witnessed them. Historical events are unique and singular, and one cannot run an experiment to verify whether what is reported is true.”[2]
In other words, every historical event, everything that happens within a specific time and place that we don’t personally witness requires that we trust those who did witness it. Of course, in the modern age people can take videos, but if no one got their phone out in time we are obligated to either believe the witness or not, there is no way to prove it.
When we really stop to think about it, it really is incredible that our entire faith is, in the words of Wilken, “inescapably bound to the witness of others.” All of Scripture – whether it’s narrative, poetry, lament, or a theological letter – is someone else’s. Of course we have our own experiences with God, which we’re going to talk about, but our holy Scriptures provide the context, the lens, through which we see, interpret, and understand our own experiences. Our faith is inescapably bound to the witness of others. Those of us who put our trust in the God revealed in Jesus Christ put our faith not only in this God but also in the authors of Scripture who tell us about this God, and who share with us their experiences with God. We may find some of their writings problematic, we may not like what they say, but we have enough faith in them to at least wrestle with their words, to take them seriously.
On the other hand, those who don’t believe aren’t necessarily saying they don’t believe there is a God, some higher power, though they might not believe in that either, as they’re saying that they don’t believe in the witness of the biblical writers. To believe or not believe in Christianity is only partially about “God” in the abstract sense. It’s more accurately about the particular God that is revealed in Scripture, which is the God we learn about through the biblical witnesses.
Most religions claim religious experience. Many believe in a deity or many deities. What sets one religion apart from another is faith in the witness of those who came before. As Christians we trust not only the prophets, poets, and narrators of what we call the Old Testament, but also the stories of Jesus, the writings of the apostles, and the New Testament’s interpretation of the Old Testament.
There is no Scripture, no religious legacy, no faith, for Christianity or any other religion, without witness. In fact, that word which carries so much weight in Christianity, especially the early Church, martyr, literally means “witness.” Initially it had nothing to do with dying for the faith, but referred to one who witnessed to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus with their own life. Over time, it became a special designation for those whose witness extended even to their death – even when faced with torture and execution, they would not give up their witness. They were martyrs – witnesses – to the end.
In our Scripture readings today, we heard first from the Gospel of Matthew a story, an account, of a historical event – though many today would question it’s historical accuracy. Jesus took Peter, James, and John to the top of a mountain and there he was transfigured before them, and shone like the sun, and Elijah and Moses appeared with him, and God the Parent said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
Then, in 2 Peter, the author, who claims to be the very Peter present in the story from Matthew, refers to this event, he bears witness to it, to give legitimacy to what he’s telling his hearers, then and now. He wants them and us to know that his teaching both in this letter and the teaching he and the other apostles have shared with the growing Christian movement was not a figment of his or anyone else’s imagination, nor was it based on some kind of intellectual deduction. It – the Gospel of Jesus Christ – is rooted in history, existed in time and place, and he saw it, as did the other disciples. He was a witness to all of it.
“For we did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses to his majesty. For he received honor and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying ‘This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’ We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain.”
Peter says we can trust him because he was there for the transfiguration. He saw it. He was a witness.
Scripture, then, places a high, high value on human experience. And this, in turn, requires that we also, as “people of the Book,” place a high, high value on human experience.
There are many different ways to approach Scripture. A lot of people approach it like a complete blueprint, as if it has all the answers for life. I think I’ve told you before about a wonderful elderly family friend, Louie, who has since passed away, who once told me about a book he had that you could look up any question you could think of, and it would tell you where in the Bible the answer was. I refrained from asking him about the internet, electric cars, and nuclear warfare.
I don’t understand Scripture in the same way Louie did. I view Scripture as a kind of jumping off point, a guide, a compass. I look at how God acted then, in Scripture, so that I can, through the help of the Holy Spirit, discern how God might be acting now. How the faithful followed Jesus then informs (but doesn’t give me any bullet-proof answers) how I might go about following Jesus now. This approach maintains the sacredness of Scripture without reducing it to a rigid book of answers. It requires us to read the Scriptures – the witness accounts of those who came before us – in faith, trusting that the Holy Spirit really is present and active as we read, study, debate, and discuss, just as the Holy Spirit was present in the writing.
I think seeing Scripture in this way is more in line with what we heard this morning in the second half of our passage from 2 Peter, which acknowledges that Scripture isn’t always super straightforward. In fact, if we try to interpret Scripture on our own, Peter says, we’re bound to misunderstand it. “First of all you must understand this, that no Scripture is a matter of one’s own interpretation, because no prophecy ever came by human will, but men and women moved by the Holy Spirit spoke from God” Peter says.
Interpreting Scripture – that is, interpreting the witness of others who were inspired by God in one way or another – is not an individual act, but a communal act, and one done in humility, trusting that the Holy Spirit will guide us. This is why we have a time of response after the sermon, and why we emphasize the fact that everyone’s voice matters. Another way of saying this is to say that everyone’s experience matters. As people shaped by a book full of the experiences of others, we are obligated to listen to the experiences of one another, to see them as holy, trusting that the same Spirit that inspired these sacred writings is with us as we interpret them – as we bring our experiences, the experiences of others, and the experiences of those who wrote Scripture into conversation with one another, the Spirit of God being the thread that ties them altogether, like a quilt. On our own we have only a few patches of cloth. With one another we have more patches, but no cohesion. But with the Spirit, our mismatched experiences form one single blanket, and we are held, honored, and protected by the confluence of our communal lives.
This is where I’ve got to fly the Baptist flag a bit. I know many of us don’t come from a Baptist background, and increasingly denominations mean less and less to people, but we are a Baptist church, and some of us, myself included, are pretty proud of our Baptist convictions. As Baptists, we don’t believe one size fits all. We call it “soul freedom,” and in modern lingo it means “you do you.” We don’t have any creed outside the confession that “Jesus is Lord,” which means there’s a lot of diversity within what we think and believe. We see this diversity as a strength. It makes room for your unique experiences, and for mine.
It’s okay if your experiences with Divine are different than or even contradict my experiences with the Divine. When that happens, we don’t try to say that one person is right and the other is wrong. We don’t look to a creed or church tradition to settle the question for us once and for all. Instead, we ask, “What’s the third way?” Where do our experiences meet? How do we both come to a new understand of God and life with God through this conversation. When we do this, your life begins to shape my life, and my life begins to shape your life, which is what happens in community. “As iron sharpens iron,” as Proverbs 27 says.
We live in time when mainstream culture is finally, thanks be to God, becoming aware of the fact that different people have different experiences, though we’re far from valuing all experiences equally. What we call our “social location” – our race, ethnicity, place of origin, gender, sexuality, socio-economic status, ability, education, and many other factors – shapes how we see the world and how the world sees us. Those of us who fit into the current system, what we might call “dominate culture,” are, hopefully, becoming aware of what minorities have long known, that the voices and experiences of those who don’t fit into the current system have repeatedly been silenced, minimized, and discredited. We live in a society that values some people’s experience over other’s. And part of our job, as the church, is to elevate the voices of those who are so often ignored.
This is what Jesus did, and it’s what the early church did. In fact, a common theme in the witness of Scripture is that God works in and through people who society has dismissed. The first witnesses to Jesus’ resurrection were women, in a society where women’s testimony weren’t legally valid. But the Gospels say that the women got it right, while the men were woefully slow to believe. Those who listened to Jesus’ and later his disciples’ teaching were often surprised because they were “uneducated” and yet spoke with authority. The sick, the foreigners, (as I mentioned) the women, the tax collectors and prostitutes, those are the ones who, again and again in Scripture, got it right. Those who’s witness and experience would have matter little to nothing to their society are the ones who Scripture says get it. They understand.
So if we look at how God worked then, and from that try to determine how God is working now, we also must learn to listen to the experiences of those who are marginalized. We must listen to their witness, we must value their experience.
Maybe some of you have been dismissed or ignored or silenced. Maybe society or even the church has communicated to you that your experience doesn’t matter – either because of your race, gender, sexuality, lack of education, or something else. Or maybe because of something you’ve done or haven’t done. I hope that that is not your experience here at Grant Park. I pray that you know that you’re experience matters. Not only is it valid, it’s needed. We need you to tell us about your experience. We need you to bring your whole self into our community, so that we can interpret the words of Scripture together, so that we can more fully follow the way of Jesus as a community.
On Tuesday, David, Carol, and I went to Jobs with Justice’s Faith and Labor breakfast, and at one point we broke into groups made up of both faith people and labor people, and were given questions. One of the questions had to do with what we’re talking about today: centering the voices of those who are usually marginalized. The question was asked, it seemed to me, primarily in regard to labor movements, so I was surprised when one of the labor folks asked us religious folks if we made room for marginalized voices.
I had to acknowledge that we are a primarily white, middle-class congregation, and that, at least at this point in time, we’re a pretty homogenous group. But I was glad that David, Carol, and I could share with them about our time of response, when we give everyone a chance to share. And I was glad that I could say that I do my best to invite preachers from diverse backgrounds to preach when I need a break.
There’s a reason that we do what we do here on Sundays. There’s a reason we invite you to share your thoughts on the songs and the Scripture readings and the sermon. It’s because we need you – all of you, your whole self. It’s because we need each other. We are to one another, in the words of 2 Peter, lamps shining in a dark place.
In the light of our collective experiences, perhaps Christ’s face will again blaze like the sun, perhaps the Jesus we thought we already knew will be transfigured again before us in the light of our shared witness.
Amen.
[1] Robert Louis Wilken, The Spirit of Early Christian Thought: Seeking the Face of God, 174.
[2] Ibid 169.