Year A 23 February 2020
Today is Transfiguration Sunday, the last Sunday before Lent, the time which we prepare to recall Jesus’s suffering and death. Yet today we are reminded that the journey to the cross isn’t all shadows and gloom.
Transfiguration is one of those times in the church calendar which is a little weird. It is not as well-known as Christmas or Easter. It is not as easy to define as Pentecost or Good Friday. The word itself isn’t even used as part of our daily conversation.
So what exactly is Transfiguration? According to the dictionary “transfiguration” is “a change in form or appearance of an exalting, glorifying or spiritual change”, sort of like a metamorphosis but something more.
We have spent the last three weeks delving into the Sermon on the Mount and listening to Jesus as he teaches his disciples and the crowd. While none of us were there, it is relatively easy to imagine a teacher sitting and talking with those who want to learn from him. This week, when we find Jesus on the mount of transfiguration, everything has shifted and it is a truly incredible picture. Incredible in the proper sense of the word, and it is meant to be. Yet this makes it somewhat harder for us to comprehend as we see Jesus revealed in glory.
In this day and age, especially in the Western world, many of us have lost touch with elements of mystery and magic, and they only seem to have a place in children’s stories. We are often quite reductionist in our faith, and think of ourselves as being much more advanced that people in biblical times, so we find other reasons for stories that do not fit with our rational view of the world.
Faith is earth bound for many Christians, with worries about church budgets and survival of congregations sometimes becoming all consuming. Stories like this one invite us to look up for a time at something incredible, and then look back and see the glory of that moment reflected in the everyday things.
I invite you to sit back and listen to the story again …
They were out of breath. It might not have been a long climb but it was steep and the air felt thinner. Maybe that explained what they were seeing. Not that they could see much as the light was bright and intense.
Just a minute ago the sky was blue, the birds sang, the breeze blew no different from every other common day. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Then just as the three who had been pulled up the hill after Jesus were catching their breath, light erupted from the sky, the ground, the shadows, their heads, the rocks, the breeze, the singing. It was painful. It was coming in all directions.
They covered their eyes. They fell to the ground. They turned their heads away just as they saw three standing in front of them. One was clearly Jesus. The other two were unknown – perhaps Moses and Elijah, the law and the prophets.
Peter, in an intense moment of practicality, suggested three tents for them all. At least the light would dim.
There were sparks of gold, flashes of silver and it just kept coming out of everything and it burned the back of their eyes.
Hardly had the words left his mouth when suddenly it was like night. So intense had been the glory, normal daylight seemed dull, depleted.
Their senses had been ravaged by heaven and they were confused. What was up and what was down, what was their imagination and what was real hadn’t yet been put back in place.
By the time they were able to open their eyes fully and see Jesus standing there, in the familiar way they had always known him, their ears began being assaulted. “This is my son. Listen to him!”
Just then the birds flew, the wind stopped and silence seemed to fall, heavily on their mountaintop. It was deeper than they had ever felt, like a great hollow after the noise of the voice.
The everyday, common things of life and faith felt as if they were always just a breath away from bursting into glory. They never saw things the same way again.
The context of this story in Matthew’s narrative is helpful in unpacking some of what was going on. The Transfiguration is roughly the middle point of Jesus’ ministry, a ministry that begins with Jesus’ baptism and ends at the crucifixion. Interestingly this text is sandwiched between two statements about Jesus impending suffering at Jerusalem including “great suffering at the hands of the elders, chief priests and scribes” (16:21) and naming that the “Son of Man is about to suffer” (17:12). As Jesus’ is preparing his disciples for the fact that he will suffer and die, there is this word of confirmation that the one that the disciples have followed is no less than the glorious, beloved Son of God.
Here is the vision of the transfigured Jesus, stunning in majesty, mysterious even in revelation. Somehow paradoxically, with Jesus suffering and glory, darkness and light, death and life belong together. The story is a pledge of God’s commitment to resurrection, that the road to Jerusalem (while being a road to physical death) is also a road to life.
This narrative has parallels with the baptism story when the voice from the cloud confirms that which was announced at Jesus’ baptism: this is my Son, the beloved. (17:5) The instruction to “listen to him” (17:5) alerts the disciples to listen to Jesus as a teacher, and as the one who embodies the law and the prophets, represented by Moses and Elijah and symbolising all of Israel. Jesus is truly distinctive.
When witnessing this event the disciples were confused. In this strange, supernatural, inexplicable moment, there is the glimpse of something divine, yet once a little is revealed we understand that even more is concealed. It is no wonder that Peter wanted to build some shelters. While it can be easy to think his suggestion was pretty stupid, I think it tells us something about what he was thinking. He has had this brush with the divine and even though he doesn’t understand it, he realises it’s a gift, a gift he would like to take hold of for just a moment.
Peter is interrupted by the voice of God, and not judged, by reassured by the words of Jesus. The thing is that a brush with the divine can’t be grasped or completely understood … not for Peter and not for us. All Peter can do, and all we can do, is simply be present in the moment.
And it is in being present that we are transformed. The disciples would not be the same after this experience which confirmed everything that they had witnessed in the years they had been with Jesus – that the kingdom of God was very much a part of this world, and that Jesus’ purpose was to establish that kingdom.
The transfiguration was an invitation to Jesus’ followers to realise and release the glory and wonder of that moment into everything that they might have seen as practical and usual. That invitation is for us to. As we recognise this, the transfiguration becomes a way of living, a way of seeing and giving deeper purpose to all that we do.
Jesus’ way of life was about releasing the potential and glory of everyday things: relationships, care, compassion, eating together, welcoming the stranger. These seemingly simple, earthly things have huge kingdom worth.
We are constantly being called into new and unseen adventures. We are called into deeper discipleship and greater love. It is sometimes hard to move forward … but this is part of our transformation.
May we be fortunate enough to all have glimpses of the divine, to just be in the moment, and to be ready to head back down the mountain as transformed people who are ready to release the glory of the kingdom in our world.
Amen.
Rev Heather Hon – February 2020