Exodus 34:29-35
Luke 9:28-36
The way we read the scriptures in church, though, we
could use some of those narrations. Someone to say, “Previously, in the Gospel
of Luke…” so we know what happened eight days before.
Because that is how this passage from Luke begins: Eight days after he said these things, Jesus
took Peter, James, and John up to the mountain to pray. Well, what were
those things he said eight days ago? We might decide it’s not worth the trouble
of looking backward to see what happened eight days earlier, I think the words
were put there for a reason. It helps our understanding of this text significantly
to know what Jesus said.
All we have to do is look back a few verses. Jesus
told his disciples that he must undergo great suffering and rejection by the
leaders of his own people, and that he would be crucified and on the third day
rise again.
Now, let us not be in a hurry. Let us take a moment
to acknowledge the weight of these remarks. All of this would surely be more
than his disciples could absorb in the moment.
There are certain things that humans find to be
unacceptable, unfathomable. It makes no sense for his own people to reject him,
and the mere notion of crucifixion is their worst nightmare. And that he would
rise again? This would be incomprehensible.
But, even worse, he goes on to say that if any would
follow him, they too must take up their cross.
Take up their cross.
When we use this phrase, we always mean it
figuratively, not literally. But for the disciples, this was a very real,
physical thing. Crucifixion was the Romans’ instrument of torture and terror.
To these disciples, taking up their cross did not mean encountering some
hypothetical challenges or hardships. It meant something very specific; it
meant death.
The disciples apparently made no response to Jesus’ statements.
I don’t know if I would have anything to say in response to such a thing. There
are moments in life when we are confronted with something so impossible that we
simply deny it. Something we cannot bear, so we allow our eyes, our ears, our
hearts to resist the knowledge. They say that denial is the first stage of
grief. When you are confronted with the death of someone you love, or your own
death, everything in you wants to resist the truth of it.
The disciples said nothing in response to Jesus’
words. Perhaps some quietly left. The rest continued on their way. And eight
days later, Jesus took a few of them up to the mountain to pray with him.
Up on top of the mountain, as Jesus prayed, the
disciples saw him change – become transfigured. His clothing took on a
whiteness that was blinding. His face somehow changed. Perhaps it was similar
to the appearance of Moses’ face when he came down from his mountaintop
meetings with God, when the brilliance of it was more than the Israelites could
bear to see. The presence of the almighty God, in a mere reflection of its
brilliance and power, is too great for the human mind to comprehend.
And as if summoned by this similarity, Moses himself
appeared beside Jesus, along with the prophet Elijah. The three of them spoke
about his departure, Luke tells us. And so we know that what they were speaking
about was in line with the things Jesus had told his disciples eight days
earlier; the great suffering to come.
Peter, James, and John were weighted down with sleep
– and yet awake. A puzzling remark, but I think it must indicate to us that
they were not, mentally, at their best. It may have been grief that weighed them
down – a grief from which they desired to escape, and sleep was the only
escape.
Yet still they tried to be present for Jesus, to
understand what was happening right before their eyes – the transfiguration of
their teacher, the presence of Elijah and Moses in all their glory. And Peter
had an idea: to make a shrine, three little shelters for Jesus, Elijah, and
Moses. It didn’t really make any sense. And in case we should be misled, Luke
says, He didn’t know what he was saying.
But even while he was speaking this nonsense, a
cloud overshadowed them and the voice from heaven was heard, saying: This is my
Son, my chosen. Listen to him!
Then it was quiet. Elijah and Moses disappeared as
inexplicably as they had appeared. And no one said a word.
This episode in the gospel story, the
transfiguration of the Lord, is profoundly mysterious. There is no logical
explanation for the dazzling whiteness, the changed appearance of his face, the
presence of Elijah and Moses. We cannot understand them – we can only notice
how these things make us feel. And the feeling they evoke is one of awe, of
being in the presence of the divine.
And we cannot, must not, lift this out of the text
and isolate it from the words that Jesus spoke to his disciples just eight days
before. Just as we cannot, must not, try to erase the great suffering in the
world, or isolate it from our worship, praise, and adoration of God. They are
all a part of the same cloth. The voice from heaven said, Listen to him! We
must not dismiss his words.
The truth that Jesus suffered death on a cross is an
essential part of our faith. And the words he spoke to his followers, that we
each take up our cross and follow him, through death and toward life are also
essential to our faith. Time and history have not made these things less true. We
know that there is great suffering in the world. Yet, as Christians we do not
shy away from this truth, because we know that there is no place we might walk
where Jesus has not already made a path for us to follow. And there is no
suffering we would have to undergo without him beside us.
In this episode on the mountaintop, we know what
came before. And we also know what is yet to come. But in this particular
moment Jesus shares with us a brief view of the full glory of God that is ours
to know through him. In this episode we are shown that although we may have
understood glory in certain ways before (and maybe wanted to do things like
build little shrines or golden calves), through Christ, God is redefining power
and glory for us. Through him, we have a deeper, stronger, more lasting
knowledge of glory.
We always revisit this transfiguration story before
we enter the season of Lent, and it is for good reason. Our Lenten journey is
difficult. If you submit to the demands of the season, you open yourself up to
challenges but also new truths. You might become more acutely aware of the
suffering of this world but also the beauty that is always there. You might
experience some pain, but also receive the gift of joy.
The Lenten journey is not for the faint of heart,
because true rewards do not come from taking the easy way. But here in this
moment on the mountaintop, we are given a glimpse of glory; we are offered
strength for our journey.
And know that we embark on this journey together,
one step at a time.
Photo: ChurchArt.com
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