February 19, 2023 – Last Sunday after Epiphany

One of the advantages of our lectionary — the stories we hear over a three year period — is that we get to hear how the different Gospel writers portrayed different events that appear in the various accounts. Today, we hear of the transfiguration, the story of Christ’s glory which almost certainly preceded the written Gospels.

Mark’s story of the transfiguration is told as part of the “messianic mystery” when the glory of the risen Christ comes back to enfold the historical Jesus. Peter stammers (Mk 9:5-6: “Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.’ He did not know what to say, for they were terrified.”) and this provides fodder for humor; the story isn’t about the silliness of the disciples, but rather the overwhelming magnificence of the glorious vision.

Luke’s story of the transfiguration continues Luke’s highlighting of prayer throughout the entire Gospel. When Luke preaches the tradition, he tells it as a story about what happened when Jesus “went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying” (Lk 9:28-29), the transfiguration took place. Later, in the Garden of Gethsemane the opposite of prayer is sleeping, and when Luke relates his story of the transfiguration, he explains, “Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory” (Lk 9:32). In Luke, the transfiguration’s glory is made known only to those who know how to pray.

Matthew’s story preaches the transfiguration to a population for whom Moses is a compelling forefather. Matthew’s retelling is shaped by Moses, and the mountain of the transfiguration reminds us of Mount Sinai. Just as Moses is born under Pharaoh’s death sentence, so Jesus is threatened by Herod. Just as Moses receives the law on Mount Sinai, Jesus teaches the “Sermon on the Mount”. Moses interprets the commandments of God and Deuteronomy and Jesus interprets the commandments. The tradition of the transfiguration comes thick with themes from the Mosaic story: the three companions, the mountain, the cloud on the mount, six days. But when Matthew gives us his story of the transfiguration, he intensifies the Moses theme in order to give us Christ.

Matthew adds a description of a bright cloud, evoking memory of the cloud that accompanied the ark and tabernacle, and tells how Jesus’ face “shone like the sun” (17:2), just as Moses’ face shone following his encounter with God (Ex 34:29-30). Matthew, however, centers on the terror and dismay of the Israelites who hear the voice of God (Ex 20:18) and cry out, “You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, or we will die” (Ex 20:19). The presence and commanding voice of the Holy One of Israel threaten to overwhelm those who encounter them, but to the disciples who were overwhelmed by the presence and voice of God, Jesus reaches out his hand, touches them, and reassures them: “Do not be afraid” (17:7).

Does anything calm our fears more perfectly than a simple touch? When you were young and scared, remember how comforting it would be when your parents would just hold you? Jesus touches the disciples. This is the great genius of God… God, who made the heavens and the earth and all that is in them; God, whose greatness is so vast that not even the heavens above the heavens can contain it; God, whose we are, is so magnificent that God is willing to come among us to reach out, to touch us, and to still our fears. For Matthew, God is with us. 

Remember the angel’s promise at the very beginning of the Jesus story? “‘They shall name him Emmanuel,’ which means ‘God is with us’” (Mt 1:23). Jesus’ hand is on the shoulders of the disciples. It is nothing less than God’s own touch. Anything more would be too much. God is so vast, so magnificent, so extraordinary, that God consents to allow all that God hopes for us to be communicated in an ordinary human touch.

God comes into the world, not simply as a brilliant cloud of mystery. Not only as a thundering voice from heaven. But also as a human hand laid upon the shoulder with the words, “Do not be afraid.” God comes to us quietly, gently. God comes to us that we may draw near and not be afraid. God’s glory is majestic and so far beyond our own capacity to receive it that we can take just as much of God’s glory as a human hand can hold.

God’s glory and magnificence and power and majesty are unsurpassable. But we must also declare that God’s glory and magnificence and power and majesty are surpassed by God’s willingness to shed them all so that we might finally recognize the true love of God and God’s gentleness. The measureless power that made and continues to re-create the heavens and the earth concentrates in a hand reaching out to us.

Some would say that God is much too much to be contained within the walls of a church. And they are correct, of course. So what do we do with our God?

The transfiguration is a story about us using God to allow us to come into our own power to transform this world. About God allowing us to be the heroes we need. 

We do not become the people we are meant to be by existing solely for ourselves in a vacuum. We become through relationship; others show us the way and inspire us to grow. But eventually, there does come a time when those who showed us are no longer with us. We must pick up their lessons, internalize what they have taught us, and get going.

Some would remind us that God is so great that neither the earth below nor the heavens above can hold God, and we must agree with them.

Our work on ourselves, on our church, builds on what has come before, but it requires a new fire and a new light. A new way of envisioning ourselves and transforming from those who hold back and follow to those who lead. Our turn to lead (and to sacrifice) is coming. Because God — God who is certainly so great that God cannot be contained in something as small as a crumb of bread or a sip of wine  — is coming to fill us, to set us out on a new mission.  And we will get that bit of God — in a crumb of bread or a sip of wine, just as much of God as a hand can hold, and reflecting in our faces a light that shines like the sun.