March 2, 2025:“Be changed into his likeness from glory to glory”

Rena Turnham

The Venerable Rena Turnham Last Sunday After the Epiphany March 3, 2025

St. John’s – Minneapolis Luke 9:28-36

“Be changed into his likeness from glory to glory”

 

Today’s gospel gives us a chance to recall The Transfiguration of Jesus Christ – that monumental, mysterious, mountain-top, metamorphic event.

Rather than risk getting stuck by asking, “What exactly happened here?!?” we have an opportunity to explore what The Transfiguration reveals about God, His Son Jesus and ourselves.

A few versus earlier, Jesus spoke of the glory to come, his death and Resurrection. Now a glimpse of that divine glory is being witnessed by Peter, John and James in this supernatural encounter, one that leaves them awestruck and fearful.

The Transfiguration is one of the most significant occurrences revealing Jesus’ identity and divine purpose, although it doesn’t bring much clarity to the disciples.

They won’t really understand who Jesus really is until the Resurrection.

This moment is a hinge point in Jesus’ ministry – his own exodus towards Jerusalem, to the cross.

This is part of why we hear this passage today—because we, too, are at a hinge point.

Lent is just around the corner – a time of reflection, repentance, and renewal. It’s an invitation

to open ourselves to change – to become more like Jesus. To be transformed.

What we call ‘mountain top’ moments may be the closest thing to the Transfiguration we can experience as humans.

It’s what we call transformation, an inner change that changes our very being.

We mark time with these rare and unexpected moments as they clarify who we are and to where God invites us. At first, they’re often disorienting, and they may even elicit fear in us, because we don’t understand what’s happening, but we know that something’s happening.

I recall a moment like this in my own life, one that I didn’t fully understand at the time, but

would change me and lead me in ways I could never have imagined.

A decade ago, I felt a stirring to go to the White Earth Reservation in northwestern Minnesota. I didn’t know where this idea came from, I just had a nagging feeling to go, and to pray, and see what might happen there.

Before I knew it, I was driving four hours to meet a man I didn’t know, a native Episcopal priest named Fr. Jeff Nelson.

Several months prior, in a brief encounter with Jeff, without any forethought. I’d blurted aloud about my stirrings within, and without hesitation, he said, “I’ll take you there.”

We stayed on the White Earth reservation in Enmegahbowh’s Retreat House with some others. It was a cottage nestled on the shore of a lake. When we arrived, Fr. Jeff smudged the house with sage, and we said some prayers. I slept on the living floor by the embers of the fire. I laid there, a stranger in a strange land. I had no idea why I was there.

The next day we began our pilgrimage – we travelled from Episcopal church to Episcopal church, eating together, singing Ojibway hymns, praying together, sharing the Eucharist, dwelling in the Word, and listening to one another’s stories.

I witnessed the poverty of isolation, close up – with its few and far between towns full of dust and peeling paint. I imagined that winters there were harsh and added to the isolation. There were hardly any restaurants, few gas stations, few grocery stores. It is to this place, and other places just like it, that we sent entire peoples, and their cultures, to die.

I was deeply moved by my experience. There was a deep faith among the people who remain there alongside beautiful waters filled with Mahnomen, the Ojibway word for wild rice. There were signs of new life, with wildflowers growing through the cracks in the pavement of the school yards-all on a background of empty fields, stray dogs, and abandoned cars.

The Indigenous people there courageously persist, an act of witness and resistance. They will not be forgotten. They will not be snuffed out. They know the exodus story firsthand because they’re still living it.

When it was time today goodbye, Fr. Jeff handed me an eagle feather. I don’t recall exactly what he said because just as he was speaking to me, an eagle flew over our heads and rode the wind currents for a bit. A silence and a peace grew in the space between us as we watched.

Eventually, I thanked Jeff and departed, driving away from a sparse landscape where I had found loving people with a rich culture and a deep faith that connected them to the earth and one another. On the way home, I tried to recall the words that had been spoken to me. But I couldn’t.

I went home and unpacked my car. Now what? I had been so graciously received as an honored guest. How could I ever repay them? My mind was awhirl. I was restless. So, to put that energy to good use, I began doing chores around the house. I started to vacuum, back and forth… back and forth. My heart ached. I thought about the poverty I’d seen. I wondered what I could possibly do to make a difference.

And then something came over me and I heard a voice inside, above the sound of the vacuum. I heard three words, “Take them there.”

I turned off the vacuum and stood there in silence. I knew my next step.

Jeff’s exact words never came to me, but their meaning did—it was a kind of commissioning, an invitation to take my White Earth experience and hold it in my heart and see what comes of it.

Curious about my eagle feather, I learned that it’s a symbol of honor and respect, and a very sacred gift. For the Ojibwa, the eagle is one of the most revered and respected beings in creation. These beautiful birds represent the people’s link to the Creator and their connection to all that is spiritual.

Fr. Jeff saw something in me, and commissioned me in his way, to take my experience and not just share it, but bring people to experience the people of White Earth, their culture and their faith. What the eyes cannot see and what the heart cannot know-unless you go. The rest is up to the Holy Spirit.

I took what happened to me as a word from God about my identity, my life’s purpose, and

where that would lead me. I I would never be the same.

I was reminded through my experience that these are the places where Jesus went. These are people who Jesus spent time with. This is where he received hospitality, healed the sick, laughed and wept, rested and toiled. And a life like that leaves a mark. In the case of Jesus, in the most horrific act of violence, it pieced his flesh and nailed him to the cross.

The Transfiguration was not just a revelation about Jesus—it was an invitation for his followers to see differently, to live differently—to listen.

And so, it is with us.

Transformation is at the heart of who we are at St. John’s – it’s one of our five core values – it’s how we chose to live what we believe, as healers in need of God’s healing, forgiveness and liberation, both personally and systemically.

Transformation involves listening with all senses. “Listen to him!” is the command coming from the cloud. We do this through storytelling, praying and dwelling in scripture.

What is God revealing to us? What do we need to leave behind? Where is the Holy Spirit leading us next? What does Jesus teach us about how we are to live along the way?

This has been the work of the St. John’s Sustainable Mission Team: remembering our identity, reaffirming our mission and casting a new vision. In casting a clear vision for St. John’s we have an opportunity, once again, to order our lives to live the Way of Love… pledging ourselves to die to the ways of impermanence and to live in the hope of the Resurrection.

The Transfiguration is the preview of the Resurrection – God’s victory of love and life over sin and death. This foretaste of the glory to come is sustenance on journey for Jesus’ followers.

It’s also sustenance for us, amidst the current chaos, violence, and destruction, as we choose to see the new life sprouting up around us and as we live in the hope of new life to come. This is God’s promise to us. This is the hope we’re called to carry as we stand with the marginalized, resist oppression, and give witness to what could be, because we carry this hope not just for ourselves but for the sake of the world.

 

Amen.

10am Service