Good morning. Many movies over the years have moved me emotionally, but one movie that gets me every time is Field of Dreams. How many have seen this? It's a story about an Iowa farmer named Ray, who hears a Voice that says If You Build It, He Will Come. So Ray ploughs under his corn field and builds a baseball field. Sure enough, long-dead baseball players start showing up on Ray's field, beginning with shoeless Joe Jackson. It's a magical movie, and as a young man I was watching it with my girlfriend. At the end of the movie, when Ray sees his father as a young man, I started to tear up. After I took my girlfriend home I went back to my house, sat on my couch, and cried my eyes out for at least half an hour. I wasn't even sure why I was crying, but something about voices, baseball, and fathers touched something deep in my heart. Every time I see Field Of Dreams I still feel that magic.
Today we celebrate the Feast of the Transfiguration, and as I was looking at our readings, I felt a magic similar to what I feel when watching Field of Dreams. And I heard a voice saying, "If you preach it, they will come." So this morning I want to use Field of Dreams as a guide for looking at the magic, the mystery, and the poignancy of the Transfiguration.
In our gospel reading Jesus takes three of his closest disciples, and ascends a high mountain. There, He is transfigured in glory, and is joined by Moses and Elijah who shine with an amazing brightness. Moses and Elijah were the fathers of Judaism, Moses the father of law, and Elijah the father of prophecy. What a story! What a Field of Dreams! For Peter, James, and John, this would be like Todd Helton taking you to a baseball game, and being joined there in glory by Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle. At the old Yankees stadium. It had to be incredible.
Then Peter, dazzled by the sight, and in the presence of the greatest figures in Jewish history, says, hey, let me build some condos so you can all stay for awhile. Good old Peter. Mark says Peter was flustered and scared, and didn't know what he was saying. But I wonder if Peter didn't know exactly what he was saying. In Field of Dreams Ray hears a voice saying if you build it, he will come. Peter also hears a voice, and his voice says, since they have come, I better build it. Peter wanted to make this experience last. He wanted to make it permanent. He didn't want it to ever end.
This deep human instinct to build a container for the sacred, and make it permanent, is universal. If you were a Freudian, you might say that in the presence of the holy, human beings have an edifice complex. Just think about how many churches, synagogues, mosques, shrines, pyramids, kivas, and other religious structures have been built in human history. It's easy to understand why: our encounters with the sacred are magical and profound, but they don't happen often enough, and they don't last long enough. So we want to honor these experiences, and make them tangible and permanent. We don't ever want them to end. Ray heard a voice and built a ball park. Peter heard a voice and was going to build some condos.
But just as Peter is discussing with James and John his building plans, poof, Moses and Elijah disappear. Peter is thinking permanence, but he is slammed by the temporary. We've all had mountain-top spiritual experiences that end way too soon. We have visions of the divine, we see how everything fits together, and then a friend calls whose life is completely falling apart. We touch God in nature, and then have to return to the city. In worship we come into the very presence of God, and then on the way home some idiot cuts us off in traffic. On retreats, camps, and mission trips we clearly see God in our brothers and sisters. But then we have to go back to work. We wish so much these experiences would never end.
But they do end. In this life we all have to come down from the mountain. The Voice says build it, but reality whispers, it doesn't last.
In our Old Testament reading, we learn the story of Elijah the prophet passing the blessing to Elisha. Elisha was the chosen successor of Elijah, and he knew that Elijah would soon leave on a fiery chariot to be with God. There was no way Elisha was going to let Elijah get away without receiving a double blessing, so he stuck to Elijah like glue, following Him from city to city, until he got the blessing. As Elijah was being taken to heaven, Elisha said, "My Father! You are like a Father to me! Elisha loved Elijah, and he pursued Elijah so he could receive his father's blessing.
In Field of Dreams, Ray hints throughout the movie that his relationship with his father was not a good one. His father had been worn out by work, and Ray was a cocky 17 year old kid. Ray left for college, and never saw his dad alive again. Ray's father could not give the blessing, and Ray couldn't receive it. But at the end of the movie Ray's father is one of the ballplayers that shows up on the baseball field. Ray's dad is a young man, and as Ray and his dad start to play catch, you know that their relationship will be healed. Ray will receive the blessing.
Fathers are very significant people in our lives, for both sons and daughters, and a father's blessing is deeply, deeply, important. As a psychotherapist, I have worked with far too many people who never received their father's blessing. Like with Isaac and Esau, too often blind fathers can't bless their children, and with tears the children, like Esau, never seem to find healing. I know people, and I'm sure you do too, who are desperately seeking their father's blessing, 20 or 30 years after their father has died. Whatever a father's blessing is, it is incredibly powerful.
I wonder if Peter, James, and John felt this loss of a father's blessing when Moses and Elijah disappeared. They weren't denied the blessing, but they were this close to touching, and hugging, and playing catch with Moses and Elijah, the fathers of the faith. And then the fathers were gone. To switch metaphors, it must have been like the Super Bowl, with Seattle on the goal line, the championship right there a yard away, and then it's gone. Ouch.
Fathers are a great mystery. We long to know them, understand them, and be blessed by them. Many of us have heard a voice that says ease their pain, which is also our pain. Peter, James, and John heard the voice of God the Father saying this is Jesus, my son. I love Him. We all Long to hear the voice that says that we, too, are beloved.
In second Corinthians, Paul says that God's radiant glory is displayed in the face of Christ, but there is a veil that prevents the world from seeing this glory. Believers can see through the veil, but most people can't. This reminds me of a scene in Field of Dreams, where Ray is faced with a very difficult decision. He is bankrupt because he turned his cornfield into a baseball field, and his wife's brother is insisting that Ray sell what's left to the bank. But Ray's brother-in-law can't see the players on the field. He doesn't believe. There is a veil that prevents him from seeing the glorious treasure of the baseball field, a treasure that people will come and pay to see.
This is such a great metaphor for our lives. We know the glorious reality of heaven is there, but the hardships of this world often veil our eyes from seeing it. There are times when we feel bankrupt, and we don't have the inner resources to dig deep to see how God is working in our lives. Sometimes our financial issues are so pressing that we lose track of the other reality of God and heaven. Our relationships are often such a mess that God seems a million miles away. Sometimes our health aches and pains us enough that the reality of a heaven of peace and joy seems like a dream. On the other hand, our riches and affluence can veil our eyes to the reality of heaven, because in our comfort we are tempted to believe that this world is heaven. It isn't easy to consistently raise the veil, and be comforted by, and challenged by, the reality of God's world.
But for Peter, James, and John, on the mount of Transfiguration, the veil was completely removed. They saw clearly the glorious reality of heaven. After Moses and Elijah left, however, Jesus says something strange. He says, don't tell anybody about this. Don't tell anybody about this? Really Jesus? What's that about? We've seen past the veil, and you want us to keep quiet?
I have a confession to make. I get this whole veil thing. But I don't like this whole veil thing. Sure, I get that not seeing through the veil all the time develops our faith. I get that it disciplines us to seek God, and patient seeking builds perseverance, and persevering in hope builds character. I get all that. But I don't always like it. I don't like that some people have been so bruised by this world that they seem unable to see past the veil. I don't like it that in certain seasons of our life the glimpses beyond the veil are way too few, and way too far between. I wish it were different.
Seriously. Why couldn't Jesus have walked down from the mountain with Moses and Elijah, removed the veil for good, strolled into Jerusalem, and inaugurated His messianic kingdom? Would that have been so hard?
Jesus tells us why He didn't do that. He told the three, don't tell anyone what you have seen on this mountain until after I have risen from the dead. That's the catch. There's the rub. In order to play on the Field of Dreams, we all must journey through suffering and death. The veil will be lifted, but only after we journey through suffering and death. We will know permanence, but only after we journey through suffering and death. We will be blessed by our fathers, and all our relationships will be healed, but only after we journey through suffering and death. I don't like it, but this is our entire faith. This is the good news.
This is why we always celebrate the feast of the Transfiguration right before Ash Wednesday and Lent. It's a liturgical reminder that nothing stays transfigured unless it first goes into the grave. As Jesus had to journey through suffering and death before He entered into glory, so must we. One day we will all play on a field of dreams with all the saints. But first, we must go the distance.
Field of Dreams is about longing, and magic, and heaven. When we long for permanence, we long for heaven. When we long for our Father's blessing, and for healed relationships, we long for heaven. And when we long to see through the veil, and see God face to face, we long for heaven. In this holy season of Lent, may we all find heaven in our journey to the cross, and may we all follow the Voice that leads us home.
Amen
