Luke 9.28-36 — Andy James

a sermon on Exodus 34:29-35 and Luke 9:28-36
preached on February 7, 2016, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

Transfiguration Sunday is one of my favorite days of the church year. It is one of those church holidays that will almost certainly never get taken over by commercialism, in part because different parts of the church celebrate it at different times! It brings us to a story that seems to be incredibly important in the three synoptic gospels and that carried over into the celebrations of the church for many centuries in art and life. And it takes us to a mountaintop to see incredible and amazing light, helping us to see our faith and our world more clearly as we enter the season of Lent.

Our two readings this morning offer us two visions of this very clarity of sight because of God’s light on the mountaintop. First we hear of Moses’ strange shining face after encountering God on the mountaintop. After receiving the law from God on top of the mountain, Moses came down to meet with the people. The people were taken aback when they saw Moses. His face was shining with great light as it reflected the glory of God after his encounter on the mountaintop, and they were surprised and afraid. They knew their God as a fearful and vengeful God, as one whose glory they could not glimpse, as one who knew them and their foibles and flaws all too well, and when they saw Moses’ face aglow with even the reflection of that glory, they wondered and worried what might be coming next for them.

But this was not what Moses intended. He came down from the mountain hoping to engage the people in what God had shared with him. He wanted them to get a glimpse of the glory he had seen so that they might understand God’s presence better in the everyday. In sharing the light of his face, he hoped that they would join him in reflecting the incredible glory of God that had led them out of Egypt and would guide them into the Promised Land. But Moses’ shining face after his encounter with God on the mountain ended up being an incredible distraction for the people, so he covered his face with a veil when he was speaking with the people because they just weren’t ready to experience this light from the mountaintop quite yet.

Our second unique encounter with God and light on a mountaintop comes in our reading from the gospel according to Luke, where we hear of the transfiguration of Jesus that gives this Sunday in our liturgical calendar its name. As he prepared to begin the journey toward Jerusalem that would result in his trial and execution, Jesus took three of his disciples with him up on the mountain to pray, and suddenly “the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.” In the midst of this strange moment, Jesus was joined by two men, immediately recognizable as Moses and Elijah, and together these three “were speaking of [Jesus’] departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.”

As this light broke on this mountaintop, though, Peter, James, and John were barely able to keep their eyes open. Even amid their exhaustion, their glimpse of this glorious sight led Peter to utter one of the most bumbled lines of the New Testament: “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

As Peter was fumbling for words and actions to hold onto this moment of glory rather than to share it, a cloud overshadowed them, leaving the disciples filled with fear and trembling all the more, especially as a voice came from the cloud: “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” After this voice, the visitors disappeared, leaving Jesus alone with the disciples on the mountain, the strange radiance of the moment quickly dissipating as they all returned to the plain, recognizing all the more clearly that Jesus would soon be turning his face toward Jerusalem.

These two moments of light on the mountaintop give us glimpses of God’s glory shining into our world in incredible and surprising ways, but they also give us insight into the ways that we respond to this glory breaking into our midst. In both of these stories, the witnesses to this transfiguring light are taken aback. With Moses, the people shrink back when they see his face aglow and demand that he keep it covered up, and with Jesus, the disciples just want to find a way to hold on to the moment so that they do not lose it.

It seems that whenever we come close to the light of God, whether it be on the mountaintop or in the valley, we end up cowering in fear, seeking to avoid it and run away or to capture it and control it to limit its real effect on our lives. I suspect that this fear and anxiety around this light of God on the mountaintop probably comes less from it blinding us or showing us too much of God’s glory. Instead, it may be that this light illuminates us for who we are, showing that we are not the people God has made us to be, that we are not the people we claim to be, that we are unwilling and therefore unable to reflect the light of God’s glory into our dark and weary world.

All this may be what makes the story of the transfiguration so difficult for us. As much as we want God to change things in our world, we are so very deeply hesitant to change ourselves. As much as we want light to shine into the darkness, the glimpse of glory that comes from this light on the mountaintop leaves us speechless and fearful as it illumines our lives more than we might like. And as much as we want God’s glory to shine in us, we see in these stories that the reflections of God’s glory that can come in us might also require us to recognize the glory of God in others around us, to set aside our assumptions, stereotypes, and fears, to see our fellow humans as equal bearers of God’s image, regardless of the color of their skin, the understanding they carry of their gender, the form of their religious practice, the identity of those they love, or any other human characteristic.

Yet in spite of our fear, God’s glory still breaks into our midst, beginning with these encounters of light on the mountaintop, slowly but surely extending even into the dark valleys where things seem to be hidden but light slowly breaks in. The light of God’s glory shines upon our world in ways beyond our understanding, peeking through the clouds of hatred and anger that seem to overshadow the hopeful and joyous light of our lives, sending hope and life even into places where these seem to be so far away. And by God’s mercy, the wondrous light of God reflected in Moses’ shining face and Jesus’ changed appearance is reflected in us, for even when we resist God’s call to bear this light into our lives and our world, God guides us to overcome our fears and break through our uncertainty so that we can reflect the wonder and hope of this glory into our world.

The light on the mountaintop shines far and wide. This light begins in these incredible and beautiful places, illuminating faces with tremendous glory, glowing with wonder and hope for our weary world. This light shines on us and reflects through us into our broken and fearful world, giving us hope for all the difficult journeys of our lives and guiding us through the challenges of the Lent that lies ahead. And this light opens the pathway for us, showing us that even the darkest pathways will lead us to light, for even Jesus’ journey through death ended with an empty tomb.

So may God shine this light on us on this mountaintop, at this table where we gain another glimpse of this glory, and in every place on our journey, so that we might reflect the wonder and hope of God’s new life each and every day of the coming Lenten journey and beyond, until the joy of the resurrection is real for all as the whole creation is made new in Christ Jesus our Lord. Lord, come quickly! Alleluia! Amen.

a sermon on Luke 9:28-36 for Transfiguration
preached on February 10, 2013, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

Please raise your hand (or write in the comments!) if you have used the word “transfiguration” at all outside the church in the last year. I didn’t think there would be many of you! Transfiguration is one of those very “churchy” words that just don’t mean much unless you’re well-connected to the life of the church. This strange day, Transfiguration, that comes up every year on the Sunday before Lent points us to a story told in all three of the synoptic gospels, where Jesus and several of his disciples go up on a mountain for an incredible spiritual encounter as Jesus meets up with Moses and Elijah and his face and clothes shine brightly.

Transfiguration is just not something we encounter every day. We just don’t see faces and clothes shining brightly or things almost magically changing before our very eyes. This is the stuff of fairy tales, not of real life. Now I think we actually have seen some transfiguration around us over the past couple days as our landscape took on a new and glorious brightness as things shifted from the general winter grays on Thursday to the dreariness of rain and snow on Friday and finally to the beauty and wonder of a bright snowy landscape yesterday and today. But we all know that this glory is only temporary. Already the snow is a little dirty and gray, and by Tuesday much of what is left will be nearly black, leaving us to wish for spring all the more.

The Transfiguration of Jesus parallels these patterns of snow quite well, I think—it gives us a beautiful glimpse of glory before we are forced back into the mundane of the everyday even as we long for something more. The story gets at so many of the recurring images that we have of Jesus and the disciples. Here we see the strange human person of Jesus who suddenly has divine power and presence. We see a connection to the life and history of the people of Israel as Moses and Elijah appear. We see three disciples along for the ride who want to “get it” so badly that they completely miss the point of what is happening. And we even hear another mysterious voice from the cloud reminding everyone of who this Jesus is.

The story is simple but compelling. Luke tells us that Jesus took three of his disciples up on the mountain with him to pray. Suddenly, as he was praying, his appearance changed. His face looked different, and his clothes turned a dazzling white. If all that wasn’t enough, two other figures appeared on the mountaintop and started talking to Jesus. They were talking about his departure and his journey to Jerusalem, and it soon became clear to the disciples that it was Moses and Elijah with him. Peter, James, and John were very tired, but somehow they stayed awake to witness all of this. As the conversation came to an end and Moses and Elijah were leaving, Peter stopped them and suggested that they should find a way to extend this moment. He even was willing to make it happen—he’d build three dwellings so that they could all stay as long as they wanted! But then a cloud appeared around them, and a voice spoke up: “This is my son, my Chosen; listen to him!” After the voice, Moses and Elijah were gone, and the disciples were alone with Jesus. When they went down from the mountain, they were speechless as they waited for what was next.

Like so many of the stories of Jesus’ power and glory from the gospels, I for one am left somewhat empty afterwards, wondering what all this means. We can pretty easily sort out what Jesus teachings mean even if we have to reinterpret them for today, and the crucifixion and resurrection stories have centuries of interpretation that give them an important role in our life of faith. We can even assign some meaning pretty easily to moments of transition in Jesus’ life, like his birth or his baptism.

But wonders and signs are much more difficult. Jesus’ miracles, for one, don’t always make sense to our ears that normally hear of the wonders of modern medicine. And while when Jesus casts out demons I recognize that there is some great power being shown in the person of Jesus, but I wonder what we ought to do today when we don’t recognize demonic activity in the same way or share this same power. And the Transfiguration leaves me scratching my head and wondering what this story might possibly inspire for us today. It doesn’t seem to be much more than a wonderful moment when we can discover the mystery of God’s presence among us.

Just as a snowstorm doesn’t carry a lot of meaning in our lives unless the effects go on for weeks or months, the Transfiguration too seems like a relatively forgettable moment in the life of Jesus, just another moment when we see Jesus’ power and glory revealed— and the disciples continuing their usual bungling and fumbling that seems to show up whenever they are faced with the reality of who Jesus is. To most people outside the church, people who see the Bible as a book of stories and not an authority on faith and life, people who are even more confused than I am about Jesus’ miracles and healings and casting out of demons, stories like the Transfiguration are mythical at best and just plain crazy at worst.

But there is something more going on here for us. Even if we don’t fully understand this strange moment, this glimpse of the glory of Jesus can help us to see him more clearly in his time and in ours. Everything that Jesus has done up to this point in Luke’s gospel—the preaching, teaching, and healing that has marked his ministry around Galilee—looks different now that Jesus has shone with this strange glorious light. He is not just a faith healer or an inspired teacher—he is one who has standing and status that comes from beyond himself and is more fully revealed little by little, with each new encounter.

But this glimpse of Jesus’ glory doesn’t just end here on the mountaintop. As his life and ministry continues, Jesus keeps showing his strange and wonderful way to everyone he meets. In his death, it is opened anew once again as we see that even God’s holiness is open to the depths of human pain, suffering, and sin. And most of all, in the resurrection, we see the greatest exposition of this glory as we learn that God’s power and glory extend over anything and everything—even death.

But the real gift of the glory of God revealed in Jesus’ Transfiguration atop that mountain comes as it shows up in our own time. There are countless ways to get a glimpse of this glory in our world. We can see it around us in the wonder of nature, in the beauty of a morning snowfall, in the joy of children, in so many things in our lives. But these glimpses of glory are exactly that: glimpses. They do not show us the full wonder, power, and love of God in our midst. We can’t see everything that we need to know about God just from opening our eyes to see a beautiful snowfall or vista or even by experiencing the wonder of relationship with our fellow human beings.

Yet when we gather as the community of faith, we get a deeper glimpse of that glory than we can have on our own. When we gather as the people of God, our united vision helps us to see things that we might have missed on our own. When we sing songs of praise or offer words of prayer and thanksgiving, we get a closer look at the new world that we also glimpse in the Transfiguration. When we come together to fight for justice, to intervene in the pervasive yet quiet hunger in our community, to step up and say that the poor will not be forgotten anymore, we start shining the glory of God out into our world all the more. And when we gather at this table, we gain not only a glimpse of the glory of the resurrected Christ but also some food for the journey so that we might live out this glory all the more.

So today, as we remember this great glimpse of glory on the mountaintop, as we gather here at this table hoping for our own glimpse of Jesus’ wonder and love, may we glimpse the full glory of God in Jesus Christ in our worship and our sharing so that we might go forth to shine his glory out into our world brighter than even a sunny post-snow day throughout these wintery, Lenten days and beyond until we shine brightly in the glory of Jesus Christ our Lord.

Lord, come quickly! Amen.

Light on the Mountaintop

Glimpses of Glory