Life after Mountaintop Experience

Text: Mark 9:2-9

Every once in a while, we experience something extraordinary or profound, what we can call a spiritual awakening or a mountaintop experience. When that happens our whole being – body, mind and spirt – becomes so open that we have a greater sense of belonging. With the gift of connection we feel, we know we are not alone. And we have a greater sense of purpose if we let those experiences guide us. The kind of experience I am trying to describe here is not limited to any particular places. Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to visit a sacred site. And I believe some places have spiritual connotations. When I visited the Bannock Point Petroforms, I knew I was standing on sacred ground, where ancient teaching and wisdom were very much alive; the hair on my arms stood up, my breath quickened, I had a sense of the ancestors being present. My life-giving moments, however, have usually come in unexpected places and in unexpected ways.

I remember walking down the street on a bright spring day in Seoul. I had walked the same street thousands of times before, and I never thought that I could have a spiritual awakening from such an ordinary and busy street. For some reason, I found myself singing a song about God’s love in my head. All of sudden, everything around me began to sing with me – the tall trees along the street were moving and dancing to the music, the birds in the air were singing like a heavenly choir, and the sky and the clouds all joined together in worship. Even all the strangers seemed like my fellow worshippers. I felt the oneness of everything. There was not a separate me anymore; I was part of everything in the universe.

I also remember leading a Maundy Thursday service in Ladysmith, BC. We prepared a foot washing station where some volunteers washed people’s feet. I found that people are more willing to wash other people’s feet than letting others wash theirs. So, the idea of the foot washing station was to invite people to be vulnerable and open to the hospitality of others. My older son, Peace was 7-years-old at that time. Everyone knew he was a preacher’s kid - not only that he looked like me, but also, he was so busy, curious, and never afraid of asking challenging questions. When it was his turn to be washed, he insisted that he would wash someone else’s feet in return. They couldn’t find a better volunteer than his father. So, in the middle of the service, I sat down on the chair, and took off my shoes and socks, waiting to be washed. Peace began to wash his father’s feet with care. He was treating my feet as if he would treat his most precious Lego piece. It was the most solemn ritual I’ve ever experienced.

As I reflect on these special moments, and many other moments in my life, I found some common elements. The clock stops, and yet I catch a glimpse of eternity. The world falls away, and yet I am never more present in the world. Relationship is at the heart of such experiences; my sense of connection deepens, and my sense of belonging expands. I receive gifts that come with those experiences. Though sometimes I am forgetful, I know I am invited to honour those experiences by remembering them and treasuring the messages. The real work of learning begins after mountaintop experiences. 

I wonder what the disciples learned from their own mountaintop experience. The three disciples, Peter, John, and James experienced something extraordinary on the mountain. They saw the appearance of Jesus change, and his clothes become dazzling white. They also saw Moses and Elijah talking to him. Did they catch a glimpse of who Jesus really was – fully human and fully divine? Did the presence of Moses and Elijah deepen their sense of belonging in God’s world? We don’t know how what they saw on the mountain changed their lives and ministry, but one thing is certain. Their mountaintop experience made a long-lasting impact; it was so important that they not only had to tell the story, but also continued to learn from it.

I used to think that Peter’s request to stay there by making three dwellings was a way to refuse to go down where suffering and death awaited. In fact, just a few days before they climbed the mountain, Jesus told his friends how he was going to suffer and die. Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him only to be scolded by Jesus, ‘you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’ But I now have empathy for Peter. His honest answers resonate with my feelings. Peter rebuked his beloved teacher because he was terrified, and he requested for a stay because again he was terrified. Terror is one of the concepts of the numinous, the holy. 

According to Rudolf Otto, a German theologian, and one of the most influential thinkers about religion in the first half of 20th century, there are three components in the experience of the holy. The numinous, spiritual, or religious emotion is wholly other – entirely different from anything we experience in ordinary life. The numinous also provokes terror because it presents itself as overwhelming power. Finally, the numinous present itself as merciful and gracious. 

So, Peter’s reaction was one of the most natural responses to the experience of the Holy; he was overwhelmed by the power he could not fully comprehend. I am beginning to think that the transfiguration of Jesus was God’s way of preparing the disciples to endure many days that would follow down in the valley. The highest point in their lives made their lowest point not only bearable but also livable. The gospels tell how the disciples disappeared and were scattered after the crucifixion of Jesus. But they were not crushed entirely; the spark remained in the midst of their brokenness. And I like to think that their mountaintop experience was one of the most precious memories that could keep them alive and hopeful. While other gospels – Matthew, Luke and John – tell stories of how the risen Christ interacted with the disciples, there is no sign of the resurrection in Mark except the empty tomb. So, for the community of Mark, the image of the transfigured Jesus was it. It provided the source of inspiration for the life of their community through many days down in the valley.

One of the things the pandemic has done for us is that it changed our attitudes and perceptions toward our life together as a community. Who would have thought that singing together could be our dream? So many things we took for granted before the pandemic have now become the most precious things we look forward to such as hugging, hand shaking, eating together, going to a concert, just to name a few. What used to be ordinary things have now become extraordinary. It is only after coming down from the mountain that we now realize that we were even on the mountaintop. I often wonder what brings us together as a community of faith these days. What makes you want to join us for worship on Sunday? What makes you pray for someone in the congregation or their family members you haven’t even met? This place of worship brings back a lot of memories. Every time I come to the Upper Hall, the hallway, downstairs, or our front yard, I think about what we were able to create together. I think about the congregation, people from all walks of life, the energy in the room, the connection we made, and the ripple effect each event created. We do have many mountaintop experiences, after all. And they make our days in the valley not only bearable but also livable. We can honour those experiences by remembering them and treasuring the messages. This is where the real work begins after our mountaintop experiences.