We end pretty much where we began. On the First Sunday after Epiphany we heard, during the Baptism of Jesus, a voice from heaven saying, "This is my beloved Son, listen to him." On the Last Sunday after Epiphany we hear during the Transfiguration of Jesus, a voice from heaven saying, "This is my beloved Son, listen to him." That hasn't changed. What has? Not much.

These two manifestations of Jesus of Nazareth as the Son of the living God bracket for us 21st century Episcopalians, a season, a time, set apart by the Church to present to us so many instances of the power and the grace of the Word made flesh, dwelling among us.

These two manifestations of Jesus of Nazareth as the Son of the living God bracket, for the 1st century disciples, the presentation to them of the same thing. Precisely.

How much difference, really, have the Gospels of January and February made in our lives? About as much difference as the intervening events between the Baptism of our Lord and his Transfiguration made in the lives of the disciples. That isn't putting down the disciples or us, it is simply admitting in what good company our miscellaneous moods and manners place us.

Epiphany does not have the severe austerity of Lent, or the joy of Easter or the glory of Christmas. It is more normal than that. Episcopalians call this whole season Sundays after Epiphany, but our Roman Catholic friends actually call this season of Epiphany: Ordinary Time - Sundays in Ordinary Time.

It is ordinary probably. And despite the healings and teachings of Jesus, some of the time the disciples spent with him must have seem ordinary, normal. Thank goodness - they, and we, cannot live all our lives at the intensity of Easter or the rigor of Lent.

The disciples had every advantage that we have, some would say more, and they acquitted themselves with about as much faith and honor, trust and grace as we evidence in our day to day lives. Which is to say: not too much, but usually not too little either. Sometimes doing well, sometimes doing not so well. But usually always at least trying to be faithful. Sometimes we all really fail.

The Gospel of Mark is a very bare bones Gospel - just the facts. And not all of them. Matthew and Luke describe this morning's incident on the mountain in greater detail, adding some very telling points. They note the disciples were asleep when Moses and Elijah first appeared beside Jesus. Only after the vision is well underway do they wake up. And then they natter on inanely about making festival booths to capture and hold the vision. All the Gospels feel compelled to note that Peter is making these silly suggestions, "not knowing what he said."

An even worse showing by the disciples is in the prefigured offing. There will be another time, when Peter and James and John are in the company of our Lord, on the last night of his life, and during the agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, and, just as during the glory on the mountaintop, they will be dozing, nodding off, blithely unaware of what is transpiring. They will again awake with a jolt, and scramble to understand, and act first, and think second, if at all, and once again behave in an inept and inappropriate way. They are, after all, disciples, like us. We, of all people, should be able to understand. People, like us, like the disciples, are never terribly good, polished or poised in the presence of the glory of the Lord, in the staggering moments, epiphanies, when the God of grace and glory shows himself to us in our lives.

At the baptism of Jesus, the voice from heaven declares, "This is my son, My beloved, in whom I am well-pleased." Some standing by said, "Oh, it thundered." Others are more theological: "An angel has spoken to him," they said, knowledgeably.

I wonder if our response to the appearing of God in our lives, to the decisive moments in our own days when the Christ is manifest in our midst, are any more clear-headed or devout, any more intelligent or faithful. When God works in our lives, do we sometimes say "Oh that was thunder: natural phenomenon, co-incidence, luck." We sometimes get more theological and speak of angels: "Oh that was a message from somewhere, a sign, a symbol, a suggestion of God." We rarely admit openly: "that was God speaking directly to me."

And, of course, like the disciples, we are usually jolted. We may not have been asleep, but we were in some fashion unprepared. God was acting in our lives, showing forth his power and glory - the Transfiguration was occurring, the Baptism being accomplished, the agony undergone, before we were fully aware of what was happening, before we realized anything at all was happening. And then the sudden catch-up attempt to respond. Our response may be appropriate and faith-filled . Or it may be hasty, badly done. These responses, grand or inane, are both characteristic, always have been, of the followers of our Lord.

Suddenly the Lord is revealed in our lives, usually a moment of insignificance, or else in a moment of great pain and weakness, but only very rarely in a moment well-prepared for by prayerful anticipation and carefully arranged Religious circumstances. We are caught in some spiritual equivalent of apostolic drowsing, not fully awake, not full aware, of the infinite possibilities of the healing power of Christ in our lives or of the glory of God which shall be revealed in us.

When we try to schedule the epiphanies, try to put in our orders for an on-time performance of the grace of God in our lives, we are apt to be disappointed. We sometimes approach the Church in that well - intended by miscalculated way - that here all will be made well, we will see and know and understand, we will encounter the Lord of heaven and earth in all his glory, transfigured, resplendent, with an accompaniment from heaven itself, and we are usually disappointed.

Perhaps that is one reason passions run so high in a church, particularly in a church where devotion runs high. We think, we hope, we dare, that if God is presented to us properly, we will be made all right, that all will be well, that we too will be transfigured. Well, it just doesn't happen that way. We, like the disciples, will remain pretty much the same after our time in Church as they were after awesome encounters on banks of the Jordan River or on the holy mountaintop.

We always hope when we come to church that it will be the full and total answer, and it almost never is. I always hope my sermons will help, and I know that they do not always. David James knows that not everyone will like every style of music from every age, but he hopes that some will like one thing, some another, and all will have some inspiration at some point. I personally have 12 favorite hymns. There are 700 in the Hymnal, so I am, shall we say, occasionally disappointed. Mass will not always be perfect or even what we hope, and it cannot ever present God in all his glory.

But the great question is: do we get enough, see enough, hear enough, in this ordinary stretch of time to go on, to wait for God to appear and act in our lives? Are we made just a little better able to receive that grace in our lives, to respond just a little bit more faithfully, and with greater courage. We will never fully be the New Creation in this life. But we will be given the strength and the faith to go on to the next step, there to wait patiently upon the Lord for his next manifestation of his grace in our lives.