Transfiguration

All around us, to right and left, in front and behind, above and below, we have only to go a little beyond the frontier of sensible appearances in order to see the divine welling up and showing through. But it is not only close to us, in front of us, that the divine presence has revealed itself. It has sprung up universally, and we find ourselves so surrounded and transfixed by it, that there is no room left to fall down and adore it, even within ourselves. --Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

You may find yourself at the top of a mountain, with Jesus, Moses and Elijah. You may find yourself staring at Jesus' dazzling clothes. You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?

We have jumped ahead in Mark's gospel. We were following the story more or less chronologically, from the beginning: John the Baptist, Jesus' baptism, and then his ministry in Galilee which grows rapidly as the word gets out about his teaching and healing. Suddenly we fast forward five chapters, skipping over more teaching, and miracles, and confrontations with the religious authorities. Suddenly we are in the midst of a transcendent vision of Jesus, shining with divine light.

The church in its wisdom has put this vision of the transfigured Jesus at this point in the church year, because it is a fitting conclusion to Epiphany and it also has themes that we will hear more about in Lent. The whole season of Epiphany is about God's glory showing forth in Christ. This story underscores what we have been hearing all through this season: that Jesus is divine-he shines with the radiance and glory of God. "This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!"

This account of Jesus on the mountaintop is thick with allusions to other encounters with God in Scripture. Both Moses and Elijah encounter God at the top of a mountain. Moses goes up to Mount Sinai many times, and God speaks to him from a cloud. When Moses comes down from Sinai, his face shines so brightly that the people beg him to put a veil over his face. Elijah was fleeing from King Ahab who wanted to kill him-he ends up at the top of Mount Horeb, and cries out for God. First he hears a mighty wind, but God isn't in the wind. Then he experiences an earthquake but God isn't in the earthquake. Then a consuming fire, but God isn't in the fire either. Finally, he hears the sound of sheer silence, and God is in the silence. Both Moses and Elijah are associate not only with mountaintop epiphanies but with Israel's hope of deliverance. God promises in Deuteronomy to raise up a prophet like Moses in the future, a prophet to whom people would listen. Israel also believed that Elijah would appear at the end times to usher in the messianic era. At Passover seders to this day, a place is set for Elijah in case he shows up. We are meant to understand from the presence of Elijah and Moses that a new age is about to begin-God's messiah is here and Israel's hope for deliverance is about to be fulfilled.

But deliverance did not come the way Israel expected. Jesus brought salvation but not by restoring the kingdom of Israel or liberating them from the Romans. The Transfiguration signifies that redemption is at hand, but it also points to Jesus' coming death and resurrection. It is through Jesus' suffering and death on the cross that he will be glorified and salvation will come to his people. The divine light will shine most fully in him when he has fulfilled his mission in obedience to God. Just before this mountaintop experience, Jesus predicts that he will suffer and die and be raised from the dead. And not long after this transcendent vision, things begin to heat with Jesus in his confrontations with the religious leaders and he becomes more focused on his death.

So the message of the transfiguration is not a simple one. It is a message of redemption and glory on the one hand, and it encompasses suffering on the other. The Greeks have two words for time: chronos, which is chronological time, and kairos which is eternity, or God's time. The two kinds of time exist alongside each other in a way that is impossible for us as human beings to comprehend. But from time to time, we are given a glimpse of eternity-an inkling of the divine radiance that is all around us, but which we often miss. When we do catch sight of that divine light-usually at moments of intense beauty, joy, birth or death--it often feels far more real than our daily lives. And the fragments of our lives, the things we don't understand, the paradoxes, are somehow gathered up into one reality that has meaning far beyond our ability to reason it out.

But we only catch fleeting glimpses of the divine reality. Then we have to come down the mountain, and continue on our way. As followers of Christ, our path leads to resurrection, but first it leads to the cross. Jesus spelled that out to the disciples, saying, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."

The disciples were very human. They had a hard time with the message of the cross just as we do. The gospel of Mark records how the disciples responded to that message-they argued with Jesus, they didn't get it, they were afraid and they ran away.

I can identify with those responses. Who would voluntarily seek out suffering unless there was something terribly wrong with them? No wonder Peter wanted to build some shrines up on the mountain and stay up there forever. Why would he want to accompany Jesus to the cross? But Jesus' message is that there is no resurrection without the cross. We can't grow without suffering. We can't love without sacrifice. We can't receive new life without dying.

I don't believe we are called to seek out suffering. But we are called to follow Jesus-which means to be truthful and to love with everything we've got. And suffering is an inevitable consequence of love and truthfulness. In Lent, we are invited to walk with Jesus on his way to the cross. It is a time to confront all that keeps us from loving generously and let God transfigure us. It is not an easy journey, but it is infinitely worth it.

The Transfiguration is a sign to us-that Jesus' destiny is our destiny. Jesus is our sacrament-our visible sign-that God is present, even if we cannot always perceive God's glory. God is at work in the world, redeeming all suffering, sin and death. If we keep our focus on Jesus, rather than on our own fears and limitations, we will be transfigured. We will shine with God's light and we will see that light in the faces of all whom we meet.

I'd like to close with a poem from Madeleine L'Engle:

Suddenly they saw him

the way he was

the way he really was

all the time,

although they had never

seen it before,

the glory which blinds

the everyday eye

and so becomes invisible.

This is how

he was, radiant, brilliant,

carrying joy

like a flaming sun

in his hands.

This is the way he was-is-

from the beginning,

and we cannot bear it.

So he manned himself,

came manifest to us;

and there on the mountain

they saw him, really saw him,

saw his light.

We all know that if we really

see him we die.

But isn't that what is required of us?

Then, perhaps, we will see

each other, too.

The Irrational Season, by Madeleine L'Engle (New York, Seabury Press, 1977)