"Jesus, Superman, and Me"
A sermon by Sid Burgess, Edgewood PC
Birmingham, Alabama
Transfiguration Sunday, March 5, 2000
Texts: 2 Kings 2:1-12, 2 Corinthians 4:3-6, Mark 9:2-9
"Faster than a speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Look! Up in the sky. It`s a bird. It`s a plane. It`s Superman!"
Perhaps you remember that dramatic opening of the 1950’s TV series, staring George Reeves. The announcer goes on to say,
Yes, it`s Superman - strange visitor from another planet who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. Superman - who can change the course of mighty rivers, bend steel in his bare hands, and who disguised as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never-ending battle for Truth, Justice, and the American Way.
Wow! I loved every thrilling episode. I remember those dramatic moments when Clark Kent would rush from his desk at the newspaper, look around to make sure no one was watching, take off his dark rimmed glasses, and duck into the supply room. In an instant, he would be seen as Superman, leaping out the window, up into the sky, and off on another mission to fight crime.
In the comic book version of Superman, the transformation takes place when Clark Kent opens his shirt to reveal the big "S." He then zooms off at super speed, obviously changing to Superman faster than the eye can see. When Superman was updated for the 1990’s TV series called "Lois & Clark," special effects were available. Viewers would see Clark spin around like a whirlwind and change into Superman before their very eyes.
Readers of the Bible do not have to go far to see where the creators of Superman might have gotten their inspiration. In today’s episode from the Older Testament the prophet Elijah stops the flow of a river--dead still, within its banks. With a chariot of fire and horses standing by, Elijah spins up to heaven in a whirlwind. And then, Elisha, his successor, tears at his clothes. Superman may bend steel, but later in the biblical narrative Elisha will cause steel to float in a river! (2 Kings 61f). And, in today’s Gospel story, Jesus is dramatically transformed on a mountaintop, his clothes becoming ‘dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them."
Now, think about this. I remember playing Superman as a child. Perhaps you did, too. With a towel and a safety pin I had a cape, and a small boy was dramatically transformed into the "man of steel." By contrast, I do not remember playing Jesus. I don’t remember playing ‘Jesus,’ and today, I wonder, "Why not?" I mean, as a child of the church-going fifties, I heard more stories about Jesus than I did about Superman. But I never did put on sandals and play "Jesus." Fear of being irreverent, perhaps. More to the point, I suppose even as children we can perceive the difference between faith and fiction.
Superman is make-believe. By contrast, even as children, we recognize that there is something mysteriously true about Jesus. Something more real about him, more genuine, more starkly human than a mere hero of TV, stage or screen. His is a power . . . made known in weakness! A baby, born in a manger. A child, lost in the Temple crowd. A young man, tempted. A popular leader, betrayed. An innocent man, put to death. Not even a child can ignore the horror of the Cross, for Jesus is fully human . . . and yet, fully divine! High upon a mountaintop, God transfigures Jesus so that the disciples get a glimpse "glory divine." Moses and Elijah appear from Israel’s past to point all of humankind to Jesus, and to the coming reign of God--when God’s Law and God’s justice will rule all the earth. High upon a mountaintop, a voice rings out from heaven above,
"This is my son, the beloved one; listen to him."
According to the legend, Superman is rocketed to earth by his birth parents after a cataclysmic explosion obliterates his home planet of Krypton. In Smallville, USA, the baby boy is adopted by Jonathan and Martha Kent, who give their son the name Clark. But there the line ends. Readers of the story, viewers of the TV show and movies have no link back to the Kents, and certainly no connection back to Krypton.
Not so with the story of Jesus. Through Jesus we have a direct link to God is Father. Jesus calls, "Abba, Father." And, so do we, praying as Jesus has taught us, saying, "Our Father . . . ." In his letter to the church at Rome, St. Paul informs: "you (who call God ‘Father’) have received a spirit of adoption" (Romans 8). Imagine that, by God’s grace, you and I are sisters and brothers of Christ our Lord, adopted children of God.
Today, a new member comes into our community of faith. David Baker comes to us to claim his adoption as God’s own child. David comes as we have all come to Christ--not of his own power, but of the power of the Holy Spirit, stirring within him. Not out of his own goodness, but out of the goodness of God, made known to us through Christ. Not out of his own faith, but out of the faithfulness of Christ, who goes to the Cross for us.
Superman would have flown right over that awful symbol of brutality, or burst it into a thousand splinters. We ourselves, would deny its existence--the existence of suffering in the world, even in our own lives. By contrast, Jesus surrenders to the Cross--endures the most horrible death imaginable--that you and I might live the most wonderful life possible--life in relationship with God the Father, life in relationship with one another--sisters and brothers of Christ our Lord. Life made possible by the Holy Spirit, wrapping us altogether in the Love of God.
Back to the story Mark tells, remember the conclusion:
Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.
As fast and as unexpectedly as the divine revelation had come, it is now gone. The disciples are left alone with Jesus. And it is a long way down the mountain.
Every July, Rick Turpen puts me through my paces on the hiking trails at Montreat, the Presbyterian Church conference center in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. The Montreat Assembly grounds are situated a valley, and all the hiking trails lead up--as much as 5,000 feet up. By the end of a day-long hike at Montreat, my legs are like rubber. The last mile or two can be excruciatingly painful. I drag myself along thinking of that cool shower and quiet nap that await me in the cabin down below.
So, I can imagine how tired James and John and Peter must have been, hiking down the mountain with Jesus. I can hear James and John complaining about sore muscles, and aching joints. Then Peter pipes up to say, ‘But, oh boy, what a story we have to tell!" Drama on the mountaintop--Jesus, our buddy, our teacher, with Moses and Elijah--and Jesus shining brighter than either of them.’ Then, "Jesus ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen and heard . . . ."
Surely Peter and the others want to know why. Why not go right now and tell everyone? Tell ‘em all about the dramatic change that came over Jesus, the mysterious appearances, the descending cloud, and the voice from heaven. Why not everyone?
NT Scholar Pheme Perkins explains: "Dramatic visions and heavenly miracles do not create faith." Great to raise ratings, good to make a point in the story, but faith--genuine, sustaining faith--flows from the reality of the brutal Cross. "Do not tell anyone," Jesus says, "until after the Son of Man had risen from . . . the dead."
At the cross, Superman and Jesus part company. Superman rescues many, but dies for no one. Christ dies for us, for all humanity. Christ gives his life to heal the breach, to end the separation between the God of Goodness and Love, and those whom this God claims as God’s own children.
Remember how Luke describes the scene at the crucifixion:
"It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land (and) the sun’s light failed . . ." (Luke 23:44-45).
Now that is darkness. Today, St. Paul reminds us, that it is precisely into such darkness that the light of faith shines. And that is good news, my friends, for there is much darkness in this world. Just this week, a flood of darkness swept over the Southern African nation of Mozambique--over one million people left homeless. In our own country, the darkness of death has descended over still more victims of gun violence-- over children, as well as adults. Closer to home, the dark cloud of illness and the shadow of death, have descended upon some of our own loved ones.
And yet, St. Paul writes to us, reminding us that out of the darkness "we see the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Cor. 4:6). Precisely at that moment when the hurt goes deepest, when the agony spreads, when grief overwhelms us "we see the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Cor. 4:6).
To Jesus Christ, who loves us
and freed us from our sins by his blood
and made us to be a kingdom,
priests of his God and Father,
to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Rev. 1: 5,6
Preacher’s note: The idea of contrasting "Superman" and Jesus comes from my good friend and colleague, the Rev. Joe Slane, pastor of the Southminster PC, Birmingham. I remembered the analogy from a sermon I heard Joe preach in the summer of 1990!