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The Transfiguration: A Foretaste of Glory (Matthew 17:1-9, 2 Peter 1:16-21)

Over these past few weeks it’s been a lot of fun seeing the photos of the Holy Land that many of our friends have been posting on Facebook. Michele and I briefly pondered whether we might have played some small part in so many of our friends going this year. And I kind of hope so, because we wanted to share the blessing. I have to admit that even with my undying gratitude for being able to make this trip a year ago, I felt just the slightest guilty twinge of envy when I noticed that for our friends every day seemed to be warm and sunny. Anyway, it’s all good.

What brought all this to mind is that today is Transfiguration Sunday, and we visited the Church of the Transfiguration on Mt. Tabor last year on a very cold, rainy, and windy day. In fact, as I vested for Eucharist in that great old church I made the mistake of laying my backpack on a window sill in the vesting room, and later returned to find it heroically soaking up as much water as it could from the puddle that had formed around it. So a cloud overshadowed Michele and me on the Mount of Transfiguration, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t like the one that shaded and the boys in today’s Gospel reading.

And I find the account in Matthew’s Gospel to be awe-inspiring and solidly relevant to us apprentices of Jesus here this morning. There are accounts of the Transfiguration in all three of the Synoptic Gospels—Matthew, Mark and Luke. So I’d like to begin, as I often find helpful, with a little context to enrich our understanding of this very curious event.

First, all three Gospels place it a week or so after a pivotal moment. You remember the story of Jesus and the disciples together at , where Jesus asks them in turn, “Who do they (those people out there gathering together to listen to my words)— who do they say that I am”; and then he asks his own disciples, “Who do you say that I am?”

And if I asked you what Peter replied, and offered each of you a nickel for the right answer, I’m betting that I’d soon be out of money. I know that you know. Peter said (all together!), “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” (Congratulations, you’re all a nickel richer. See our Treasurer after the service.)

Now, the disciples may not yet understand exactly what this means, but Peter hits it on the head, and is immediately affirmed by Jesus. So now they’ve all heard Jesus affirm the claim. He is the Messiah. So why, right after that, does Jesus lead them up on a mountain? It’s not real clear in Matthew, but we get the answer in Luke, who says, “Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray.” They got away to pray. Pray about what?

Well, I’m sure praying is always a good idea no matter what the circumstances. But the momentum of destiny is really starting to pick up now. Jesus has revealed his identity to his disciples, knowing that this will propel him forward to the final phase of his ministry. 2

The storm clouds are gathering. Right after he affirms Peter for correctly naming him as Messiah, Jesus warns the disciples that they’re heading for Jerusalem, where their Master will undergo suffering, and be killed, and then be raised again on the third day. Then he warns the disciples that they, too, will suffer on his behalf. He implores them to take up their crosses and follow him. He assures them that God’s judgment will win out in the end, and then he concludes by saying, “Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”

Some Bible scholars have concluded that here Jesus is talking about the Second Coming, which creates a little problem, right? Because obviously nobody standing there lived to see it. But many other scholars believe this actually refers to the next event, the Transfiguration, where they really will see the glorified Jesus appearing as he is in his kingdom, right on the mountaintop. They will see him as the Son of Man in all his glory. So now Jesus is preparing his disciples for that fateful fulcrum of human history, the Cross, which will unfold in Jerusalem.

Now, here it’s important to remember that Jesus was human as well as divine. It’s almost like, now that the disciples know who Jesus is, the reality of all of this is crashing in, especially upon Jesus. Concerted prayer for clear, unqualified guidance from the Father is what’s needed at this moment of destiny. In his heart, perhaps Jesus is saying to himself, “Okay, here we go. The disciples need to know in their very marrow that the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Let’s bring this home.” So they head to the mountain to pray.

The Transfiguration is a mind-bending event in which the veil between heaven and earth becomes momentarily parted. The story is packed with meaning, but this morning I’d like to point out three features that may help us to digest some of what’s happening here. The first has to do with the transcendent awesomeness and otherness of God and of the Heavenly Realm.

Our other readings set the table for us. The one from Exodus recalls Moses’ encounter with the Creator God on another mountain, Mt. Sinai. There the writer says that a cloud covered the mountain, and the glory of the Lord settled upon it. He says “the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel” who were camped below. So the writer uses language of familiar natural phenomena to describe something that was way beyond their normal experience.

And in Psalm 99 the psalmist proclaims the awesomeness of God by saying, “The Lord is king; let the peoples tremble! He sits enthroned upon the cherubim; let the earth quake! The Lord is great in Zion; he is exalted over all the peoples. Let them praise his great and awesome name. Holy is he!” And he exhorts the faithful to worship at the Lord’s footstool.

So we have these luminous, other worldly accounts of contact with the heavenlies in many places in Scripture. We have God’s dangerous, staggering radiance on Mt. Sinai. 3

We have the angel of the Lord appearing to the shepherds in and Luke says, “the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.” And he’s joined by a celestial choir of angels singing in the night sky. We’ll have those resurrection appearances of angels whose clothing and countenance are like lightning. We’ll have Saul of Tarsus, on the road to Damascus, engulfed by a blinding light that knocks him off his feet, only to find that this is the risen, ascended Lord Jesus, and Paul’s life is forever changed.

In fact almost invariably, when emissaries from heaven appear, their first message is not to be afraid. The realm of heaven is brighter, more vibrant, more beautiful and more real than any place on earth. If you want to get even the merest inkling of God’s magnificence, just go out into the New Mexico countryside some night and look up into the sky. God brought all of it forth from nothing.

So when the three disciples, heavy-eyed from a long hike up the mountain, suddenly find their Master transfigured before them, and Matthew says “his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white,” perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised. In some strange and mysterious intermingling of this side with the other side, Elijah and Moses join Jesus on the mountain.

And here’s where the second feature of this story comes to the forefront. Because Matthew says the three are talking with each other. This is one of those I-wish-I-were-a- fly-on-the-wall moments. But Luke is thorough enough and kind enough to tell us what they’re saying. Luke 9:31 says, “They appeared in glory (Okay? Also ablaze with light) and were speaking of Jesus’ departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.”

Now let’s stop here for a second. (This passage is packed.) Here’s the first thing: Elijah and Moses join Jesus. Now Elijah himself had had a mountaintop experience or two, one in which he summoned and witnessed the power of God over that of the prophets of Baal. In the other one he experienced the drama of howling wind, and earthquake and fire, and found the presence of God in none of these, but instead in the stillness. A still, small voice.

Elijah was also expected to be the forerunner and herald of Messiah. Jesus says that it’s John the Baptist who actually fulfilled Elijah’s figurative role. Now, do you remember “Who do they say I am?” Remember the answer? “Some say John the Baptist, some Elijah, others say one of the prophets.” But Jesus isn’t one of the forerunners; he’s the real thing. He’s the Christ, the Son of the living God. And he’s talking on the mountaintop with Elijah, who’s widely considered the greatest prophet to that point, and Moses.

We just heard of Moses’ mountaintop experience in our Old Testament reading. He survives a direct encounter with the Creator of the Universe, whose radiance, whose shekinah, engulfs him. Moses is the great law-giver who led God’s chosen through the wilderness to the Promised Land, building the nest from which the Savior of the world 4 would emerge and take flight. This journey through the desert was known as the Exodus.

Now, listen closely. Luke writes, “The three appeared in glory and were speaking of Jesus’ departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” They were speaking of Jesus’ departure. The word translated from Greek as “departure” is “exodus”. No accident here. Jesus is about to journey through the ultimate wilderness—the wilderness of death itself—to bring God’s people, who now potentially include every human being on planet Earth, into the real Promised Land, a foretaste of whose glory the disciples are now witnessing on the mountaintop.

Do you see how this all ties together? The Bible is one, continuous story arc that culminates in the ultimate event in human history, the Cross and the Resurrection, which is about to be undertaken by the Jesus of standing in blazing glory before them. And the great prophet and great law-giver are seeing him off on his great quest.

As if this isn’t enough, the terror-stricken disciples then are treated to another little adventure from the great beyond. While Peter’s babbling about building huts for everyone, Matthew says, “Suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’ When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.’” And then, the entire scene returns to normalcy. The radiance is gone, Jesus is alone, in his physical body, saying words of comfort to his friends. The last leg of the journey of destiny has begun.

The final feature for our consideration is captured in today’s epistle reading. Peter is writing in part to discredit false teachers. He reminds the reader that the disciples aren’t making up fanciful stories, but know firsthand of what they speak. Here’s what he says: “For we did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty. For he received honor and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, ‘This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’ We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven while we were with him on the holy mountain.” The Mount of Transfiguration.

The story arc of scripture includes many prophecies of the coming of the Messiah. And proclaiming this Messiah is Peter’s main mission. So he declares that he and his companions stand as living confirmation, living witnesses, of the prophecies’ fulfillment. These are not cleverly devised myths, but historical truths.

And that brings it right down to us here this morning. Because we’re witnesses, too. In fact some of us have had mountaintop experiences in which the presence of God was radiant and undeniable. We’ve seen with our own eyes and felt with our own spirits keen evidence of Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God. We’ve wanted to stay right there 5 and bask in it, and build permanent dwellings for us all. But instead we’re asked to come back down from the mountaintop. And rather than trying to grasp onto those luminous experiences, we’re asked to descend back into the lowlands of this world and carry a piece of that luminosity with us.

Jesus and the disciples had a hard road ahead, and so may we. But remember that through our own witness we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed, and, as Peter says, “You’ll do well to remain attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.”

Jesus has already completed the ultimate journey in the wilderness. The big Exodus. Our own walk brings this journey back to our collective memory, especially in this coming season of Lent. But through all its ups and downs, we carry a vision of the glorified Christ. We are lamps shining in a dark place, and we’re here to give light and hope to a benighted world. And one day, may it be soon, Jesus will return, the day will dawn, and the morning star will arise in our hearts. Then all will be new. Come Lord Jesus. Amen.