We Are Not Going to See the Wizard
March 2, 2025 Transfiguration Sunday
Ladue Chapel Presbyterian Church
Exodus 24:12-18 and Luke 9:28-35
“We Are Not Going to See the Wizard”
Douglas T. King
I recognize that this may not be the most popular thing to say, especially with the current popularity of the musical, Wicked, but I have always hated the movie, The Wizard of Oz. What is a cherished childhood memory for some is a memory of distaste for me. When I was growing up they used to broadcast it every Thanksgiving. And every Thanksgiving I would hang in there and try and watch it. But the flying monkeys with their weird, creepy outfits would get me every time.
Occasionally I would tune back in to catch the end of the movie but I did not find that all that satisfying either. When the great and powerful wizard is revealed to be not all that great or powerful it is a letdown. Behind the great façade, beyond the pomp and circumstance, we find just a little man. We find a little man who cannot help Dorothy get home. He ends up being more show than actual power.
I know, I know, she does get home. Under the guidance of Glynda the good witch she clicks the heels of her ruby red slippers and chants three times, “there is no place like home,” and home she is. But suffering through all of those evil monkeys and being let down by this public-relations-created wizard, for whom they name the entire movie, which never seemed fair by the way, was not worth all the bother.
Our texts from the book of Exodus and the Gospel of Luke bring us stories of someone who is vastly different than the little-man wizard. The story from Exodus brings us this powerful image of Moses ascending up into the cloud-shrouded top of Mt. Sinia. After six days God calls to Moses and Moses finds himself surrounded by the glory of God in the form of a devouring fire. The spectacle is so bright and massively magnificent that all the people of Israel at the bottom of the mountain are in awe of the sight.
In the gospel of Luke, Peter and James and John join Jesus on a mountain and they experience their own vision of plentiful pyrotechnics emanated directly from their teacher, the man with whom they eat, and journey down dusty roads, and next to whom they sleep, now completely bathed in the brightest whitest light they have ever seen.
Both of these texts put on quite a show for us, stretching our imaginations to recreate how potently God’s glory was on display. But what I find most striking about these two powerful moments is how incredibly rare they are throughout the Biblical narrative. You can go for many pages in the Bible with nary a sign of any divine razzle dazzle; without any sign of God making jazz hands. Hey, we are talking about the creator of the universe here,
you would think we would get a little more of a show now and again. You can bet that Wizard in Oz never let a day go by without impressing folk with the booming voice and some over the top display.
But God does not work like the Wizard of Oz. The Wizard was all flash and little power. If we were in Texas I would say that he was all hat and no cattle. That is obviously not the case with our God. It is just not God’s style to slap on a top hat and put on a show for us. In fact, I think it is perhaps the very last thing God wants to do. The divine razzle dazzle is only brought out in very rare moments.
Moses climbs Mount Sinia to receive the law; to be instructed in how to construct the society in which the people of God will live. The consuming fire of the glory of God was not an advertisement for how amazing God is. It was merely the smallest tangible glimpse of God’s glory that humanity could pay attention to the grand gift of the law being offered.
When Jesus is lit large on the mountain with Peter and James and John looking on, it was never about a demonstration of God’s power. It was a way to get the attention of the disciples so they could hear God’s word to them, in the waning days of Jesus’ life. “This is my Son, the chosen, with him I am well pleased. Listen to him.”
The awe and wonder produced by those rare instances of divine pyrotechnics serve to transform who we are. When our eyes are opened to the overwhelming glory of God it reorients how we see ourselves. We are not the center of the universe. We are humbled. Yet we also recognize that we are the children of this awesome God and become aware that we are valuable in incalculable ways.
We feel called to be faithful not out of fear or guilt or obligation but in joyful response to what we have seen and heard of the Lord.
But we cannot exactly count on the pyrotechnics all the time. We come to worship on Sunday and the person behind us is singing the hymns off-key. The sermon might be a tad boring. During the prayers a baby starts crying. We forgot to eat breakfast and around 11:15 our stomach starts to rumble.
We do not see the heavens open. We do not hear a booming voice from above. We may wish that somebody would play the wizard and pull a rabbit out of a hat. But that is not God’s style. Perhaps Jesus could have gone from town to town lighting himself up like a neon sign and astounding people with the spectacle of it all. But what he did was journey along on those dusty roads teaching and talking to people, telling them about how God was lovingly present with them in stories of sheep, and seeds, and misbehaving sons. He sat around and ate dinner with people and met them in the midst of their ordinary lives. Yes, there were miracles along the way, people were healed and fed in remarkable ways, but he never suggested those actions were the most important thing, not as important as the message he was bringing. When Moses was up on the mountain with God, the divine did not use the time to discuss how they would keep that amazing, consuming fire burning. God gave Moses detailed, down to earth, specific plans about how the Israelites should worship and live when they could no longer see the fire blazing before them.
Tom Long describes the Transfiguration in this way. “If someone stands on the bank of a lake and gazes into the water, often the glare of sunlight on the water allows only the surface to be seen. If a cloud passes overhead, however, suddenly the surface is made transparent and the depths of the lake revealed. Just so, the passing overhead of the divine cloud...enables the disciples—and the readers—to see past the surface identity into the depths of the full nature of Jesus.” (Long, p. 193)
Most of the time all we see is the surface of what is going on. We come to church with its combination of good moments and less-than-perfect moments, and we do our best to focus upon worshiping our God. But sometimes the sun is in our eyes. Maybe it is the routine of it all, or our wandering concentration, or whatever, but we miss what is really going on.
The Orthodox Christian tradition believes that when we worship, heaven is lowered down into our midst and a glorious rip-roaring party is going on in celebration of the divine. The angels are dancing in the balcony, and the saints are skipping up and down the aisles, and all of creation is exploding with joy and adoration for our God.
It does not matter if somebody is singing off key, or the preacher’s sermon is a little dull today, or a cell phone is playing a tune, it is all part of the party and the guest of honor is right here in our midst for every last moment of it. God is deeply present in the midst of our humanity; in the midst of what we think of as routine and ordinary living, joining us on the dusty roads of our lives.
Years ago, a dear friend of mine, a church musician with whom I had worked closely for a number of years, was dying of cancer. His name was Thomas. In the final days I kept vigil in the hospice with him. I sat by his bedside and remembered all the powerful, glorious worship moments we shared, and all of the moments that missed the mark for all sorts of human reasons we would both moan and laugh over.
One day, another friend took my place by his bedside and I went to the lounge to get a bite to eat. Moments later she came running out of his room with tears in her eyes. Thomas had died. But she told me, just as he completed his last breath, his eyes opened and he gazed up with a look of awe, of wonder, love, and praise. I am sure someone could give me a biological explanation for the look she described, but to me the reason will always be the glory of God revealed at the last. Whenever something clunks in a worship service and the whole endeavor appears all too human and contrived. I remember that fleeting moment. I am reminded that the glory of God, is all around us, on the ceilings of hospice rooms, around kitchen tables, in our committee meetings in this sanctuary; and perhaps most clearly on the faces of those around us; the divine razzle dazzle hidden in the midst of our very humanness.
Those brilliant, illuminating moments when God’s glory is on full display are few and fleeting. But there is something about their ephemerality which makes them all the more vibrant. That is why it is so fitting that as we celebrate the Transfiguration we also had our Arts and Faith weekend “Faith in Bloom.” Flowers, a tangible symbol of God’s creative glory, are all the more beautiful for their ephemerality. We are seized by their beauty in the moment because we know that their beauty is fleeting. They reveal the divine’s creative glory in our midst, in the moment.
God Almighty will not reveal God’s glory in technicolor at all times in all places. Our worship will not always scale the heights of glory. What we need to recognize is that God’s glory, though fleetingly on display, is ever-present in our midst, not over the rainbow, nor upon some mountain. It is right here, if we keep our eyes open for the ephemeral glimpses of God’s glory. That movie is right about one very important thing. There is no place like home; because that is exactly where divine glory is to be found.
Thanks Be to God. Amen.
Long, Thomas G., Matthew, from the Westminster Bible Companion Series, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Kentucky, 1997.
Ladue Chapel Presbyterian Church
Exodus 24:12-18 and Luke 9:28-35
“We Are Not Going to See the Wizard”
Douglas T. King
I recognize that this may not be the most popular thing to say, especially with the current popularity of the musical, Wicked, but I have always hated the movie, The Wizard of Oz. What is a cherished childhood memory for some is a memory of distaste for me. When I was growing up they used to broadcast it every Thanksgiving. And every Thanksgiving I would hang in there and try and watch it. But the flying monkeys with their weird, creepy outfits would get me every time.
Occasionally I would tune back in to catch the end of the movie but I did not find that all that satisfying either. When the great and powerful wizard is revealed to be not all that great or powerful it is a letdown. Behind the great façade, beyond the pomp and circumstance, we find just a little man. We find a little man who cannot help Dorothy get home. He ends up being more show than actual power.
I know, I know, she does get home. Under the guidance of Glynda the good witch she clicks the heels of her ruby red slippers and chants three times, “there is no place like home,” and home she is. But suffering through all of those evil monkeys and being let down by this public-relations-created wizard, for whom they name the entire movie, which never seemed fair by the way, was not worth all the bother.
Our texts from the book of Exodus and the Gospel of Luke bring us stories of someone who is vastly different than the little-man wizard. The story from Exodus brings us this powerful image of Moses ascending up into the cloud-shrouded top of Mt. Sinia. After six days God calls to Moses and Moses finds himself surrounded by the glory of God in the form of a devouring fire. The spectacle is so bright and massively magnificent that all the people of Israel at the bottom of the mountain are in awe of the sight.
In the gospel of Luke, Peter and James and John join Jesus on a mountain and they experience their own vision of plentiful pyrotechnics emanated directly from their teacher, the man with whom they eat, and journey down dusty roads, and next to whom they sleep, now completely bathed in the brightest whitest light they have ever seen.
Both of these texts put on quite a show for us, stretching our imaginations to recreate how potently God’s glory was on display. But what I find most striking about these two powerful moments is how incredibly rare they are throughout the Biblical narrative. You can go for many pages in the Bible with nary a sign of any divine razzle dazzle; without any sign of God making jazz hands. Hey, we are talking about the creator of the universe here,
you would think we would get a little more of a show now and again. You can bet that Wizard in Oz never let a day go by without impressing folk with the booming voice and some over the top display.
But God does not work like the Wizard of Oz. The Wizard was all flash and little power. If we were in Texas I would say that he was all hat and no cattle. That is obviously not the case with our God. It is just not God’s style to slap on a top hat and put on a show for us. In fact, I think it is perhaps the very last thing God wants to do. The divine razzle dazzle is only brought out in very rare moments.
Moses climbs Mount Sinia to receive the law; to be instructed in how to construct the society in which the people of God will live. The consuming fire of the glory of God was not an advertisement for how amazing God is. It was merely the smallest tangible glimpse of God’s glory that humanity could pay attention to the grand gift of the law being offered.
When Jesus is lit large on the mountain with Peter and James and John looking on, it was never about a demonstration of God’s power. It was a way to get the attention of the disciples so they could hear God’s word to them, in the waning days of Jesus’ life. “This is my Son, the chosen, with him I am well pleased. Listen to him.”
The awe and wonder produced by those rare instances of divine pyrotechnics serve to transform who we are. When our eyes are opened to the overwhelming glory of God it reorients how we see ourselves. We are not the center of the universe. We are humbled. Yet we also recognize that we are the children of this awesome God and become aware that we are valuable in incalculable ways.
We feel called to be faithful not out of fear or guilt or obligation but in joyful response to what we have seen and heard of the Lord.
But we cannot exactly count on the pyrotechnics all the time. We come to worship on Sunday and the person behind us is singing the hymns off-key. The sermon might be a tad boring. During the prayers a baby starts crying. We forgot to eat breakfast and around 11:15 our stomach starts to rumble.
We do not see the heavens open. We do not hear a booming voice from above. We may wish that somebody would play the wizard and pull a rabbit out of a hat. But that is not God’s style. Perhaps Jesus could have gone from town to town lighting himself up like a neon sign and astounding people with the spectacle of it all. But what he did was journey along on those dusty roads teaching and talking to people, telling them about how God was lovingly present with them in stories of sheep, and seeds, and misbehaving sons. He sat around and ate dinner with people and met them in the midst of their ordinary lives. Yes, there were miracles along the way, people were healed and fed in remarkable ways, but he never suggested those actions were the most important thing, not as important as the message he was bringing. When Moses was up on the mountain with God, the divine did not use the time to discuss how they would keep that amazing, consuming fire burning. God gave Moses detailed, down to earth, specific plans about how the Israelites should worship and live when they could no longer see the fire blazing before them.
Tom Long describes the Transfiguration in this way. “If someone stands on the bank of a lake and gazes into the water, often the glare of sunlight on the water allows only the surface to be seen. If a cloud passes overhead, however, suddenly the surface is made transparent and the depths of the lake revealed. Just so, the passing overhead of the divine cloud...enables the disciples—and the readers—to see past the surface identity into the depths of the full nature of Jesus.” (Long, p. 193)
Most of the time all we see is the surface of what is going on. We come to church with its combination of good moments and less-than-perfect moments, and we do our best to focus upon worshiping our God. But sometimes the sun is in our eyes. Maybe it is the routine of it all, or our wandering concentration, or whatever, but we miss what is really going on.
The Orthodox Christian tradition believes that when we worship, heaven is lowered down into our midst and a glorious rip-roaring party is going on in celebration of the divine. The angels are dancing in the balcony, and the saints are skipping up and down the aisles, and all of creation is exploding with joy and adoration for our God.
It does not matter if somebody is singing off key, or the preacher’s sermon is a little dull today, or a cell phone is playing a tune, it is all part of the party and the guest of honor is right here in our midst for every last moment of it. God is deeply present in the midst of our humanity; in the midst of what we think of as routine and ordinary living, joining us on the dusty roads of our lives.
Years ago, a dear friend of mine, a church musician with whom I had worked closely for a number of years, was dying of cancer. His name was Thomas. In the final days I kept vigil in the hospice with him. I sat by his bedside and remembered all the powerful, glorious worship moments we shared, and all of the moments that missed the mark for all sorts of human reasons we would both moan and laugh over.
One day, another friend took my place by his bedside and I went to the lounge to get a bite to eat. Moments later she came running out of his room with tears in her eyes. Thomas had died. But she told me, just as he completed his last breath, his eyes opened and he gazed up with a look of awe, of wonder, love, and praise. I am sure someone could give me a biological explanation for the look she described, but to me the reason will always be the glory of God revealed at the last. Whenever something clunks in a worship service and the whole endeavor appears all too human and contrived. I remember that fleeting moment. I am reminded that the glory of God, is all around us, on the ceilings of hospice rooms, around kitchen tables, in our committee meetings in this sanctuary; and perhaps most clearly on the faces of those around us; the divine razzle dazzle hidden in the midst of our very humanness.
Those brilliant, illuminating moments when God’s glory is on full display are few and fleeting. But there is something about their ephemerality which makes them all the more vibrant. That is why it is so fitting that as we celebrate the Transfiguration we also had our Arts and Faith weekend “Faith in Bloom.” Flowers, a tangible symbol of God’s creative glory, are all the more beautiful for their ephemerality. We are seized by their beauty in the moment because we know that their beauty is fleeting. They reveal the divine’s creative glory in our midst, in the moment.
God Almighty will not reveal God’s glory in technicolor at all times in all places. Our worship will not always scale the heights of glory. What we need to recognize is that God’s glory, though fleetingly on display, is ever-present in our midst, not over the rainbow, nor upon some mountain. It is right here, if we keep our eyes open for the ephemeral glimpses of God’s glory. That movie is right about one very important thing. There is no place like home; because that is exactly where divine glory is to be found.
Thanks Be to God. Amen.
Long, Thomas G., Matthew, from the Westminster Bible Companion Series, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Kentucky, 1997.
Recent
Archive
2025
2024
January
March
June
July
August
September
October
November
No Comments