Thomas J Parlette
“Mountains Left Unclimbed”
Matthew 17: 1-9
2/19/23
There is an old joke that circulates among preachers. It is the description of the ideal sermon model as “Three points and a poem.” It’s a model that was employed in an earlier generation of preachers – but you can still see it today. I’ve done it myself. Three points and a poem may be a little old-fashioned – but it can still be effective.
But today we’re going to change things up. Today we’re going to start with a poem, not end with one. This poem, called “The Mountain”, is by Robert Frost and it was published in 1915 in his book of poetry North of Boston. It tells of a chance encounter between Frost and an old New England farmer. It’s a little long, but I think it’s worth hearing on this Transfiguration Sunday.
(Read Poem)
The heart of that poem is an ordinary conversation between two people that somehow manages to traffic in the profound: “It doesn’t seem so much to climb a mountain you’ve worked around the foot of all your life.
There’s something a little sad about this farmer who has spent his whole life staring up at the mountain’s looming form, but never once venturing to the summit. All he knows about it – and about the mysterious spring near the top – he learned secondhand. There it has been, all along. He could have set out upon the climb and discover for himself what was up there – but somehow he never did. Life got in the way.
Is that how it is for us when it comes to the most essential and enduring feature of our lives – our knowledge and experience of God? Does all we know of God depend on secondhand accounts from someone else who has ventured up the mountain? Or do we have an experience of the Divine that we can call our own? If someone were to ask you “What’s it like to have a mountaintop experience? – what would you say.
That’s a question that Peter, James and John might have had a hard time – until that day they followed Jesus up the side of a mountain and witnessed him being transfigured.
All in all, it was a fleeting experience. It didn’t last long – just long enough for Peter to offer to build three dwellings just before they heard the voice of God. But the experience sure left an impression. Peter talks about it in our other reading for today, saying “We were eyewitnesses… We heard this voice from heaven, while we were with Jesus on the holy mountain.” Peter was left with no doubt about who Jesus was, I’m sure James and John probably felt the same way.
No one can say for sure what exactly happened on that mountain, but it certainly was some kind of vision. Peter, as he usually does, stands in for us all in these stories as he says, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” Like so many of us, Peter is overworking, over-functioning, barely taking a second to stop, catch his breath and behold the wonder unfolding before him.
Novelist E.M. Forster once wrote, “Ecstasy doesn’t last. But it cuts a channel for something lasting.”(1) Some moments are simply meant to be savored for what they are, not preserved for posterity. Some moments just cut a channel for something lasting.
Have you ever visited a popular tourist sight like Mount Rushmore or the Grand Canyon and all the people around you are consumed with taking pictures and selfies, and videos with their smartphones? They’re so desperate to preserve what they’re seeing that they barely even see it, not firsthand anyway. Standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon, but only seeing it through that tiny screen – what a shame. If Peter, James and John had had cell phones, they probably would have been doing the same thing as those tourists. Come on, Peter, forget the lean-to shelters. Stop doing, for once. Just concentrate on being, on gratefully receiving the wonder that’s before your eyes!
So where are the mountaintops in our lives? Where do we go to have a better than average chance of encountering the living God?
No one, of course, can dictate where or when God is going to show up. It’s not something you can schedule. The “Spirit-wind blows where it chooses” as Jesus taught Nicodemus. And while that is true, there are certain things we can do to position ourselves in the right place at the right time. Today – here on the threshold of Lent – is a good time to remind ourselves about what we might do to position ourselves for a mountaintop experience.
To begin with, we can pray. This is more than the hurried grace we say before dinner, the sleepy-eyed bedtime prayer, or the swift request called up to God in a moment of panic. The only way to truly ascend to the mountaintop in prayer is to practice a patient, contemplative kind of prayer. Such prayer is more watchful waiting than conscious thought, more silence than speech. And yes, it takes a block of time. That is what can be scheduled, carved out of our frantic lives.
Another way of ascending the mountain is to read the Bible. This too, we take a chunk of time to read and let the words sink in. But it will pay dividends as you look for experience of the Divine.
And still another way of opening ourselves to God’s presence is by simply attending worship regularly. Sounds obvious coming from the preacher, but coming to church to pray and sing and hear the Word of God is the best way to position yourself for a mountaintop experience.
Take the experience of John Wesley, the founder of Methodism. He was a priest in the Church of England, who thought his spiritual life was just fine until he accepted an invitation to attend a worship service. In Wesley’s own words:
“I went very unwilling to a society in Aldersgate Street, where one was reading Luther’s preface to the Epistle to the Romans. About a quarter before nine, while the leader was describing the change God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ alone for salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.”(2)
John Wesley had a mountaintop experience there at Aldersgate because he had positioned himself at the right time and place.
Through prayer, study and worship – the spiritual disciplines we are called to practice during Lent – we, too, can ascend the mountain. We can open ourselves up to whatever God is ready to do with us. You can’t make yourself have a spiritual experience. Only God can see to that. Yet, as the old lottery slogan used to say – “You can’t win if you don’t play.”
It’s always a sad thing when a mountain is left unclimbed. Like the farmer in Robert Frosts poem, the mountain is always there, looming familiar and serene, but it’s summit is never attempted. Is there a spring at the top, is there life-giving water up there? Will the Lord appear, shining brightly as the sun – or must the waiting continue?
Who can know? But one thing is for sure. If you never begin to climb, you’ll never know the glories of the summit.
That is what we are called to do in the season of Lent that is just three days away.
May God be praised. Amen.
1. Homileticsonline, retrieved Jan. 15th, 2023.
2. Ibid…
