I know of a church which keeps a map of parishioners’ encounters with our Lord. Each marker indicates holy ground. There are many markers. I’ve heard these called “God moments” or “thin places,” in the Celtic tradition, where the holy and the earthly come close or even touch each other. Because we live in a valley bordered by beautiful mountains and because the setting for this Sunday’s gospel is a mountain, I’m going to call these sacred experiences “mountain top moments.”
Have you experienced such a moment?
I don’t mean necessarily viewing mountains from a scenic overlook or a hike on the Appalachian Trail, although those can certainly be conducive settings. What I mean is a feeling that God is close at hand, listening to you, leading you, comforting you, blessing you.
Mountaintop moments are memorable, even life-changing, as is the Transfiguration. It’s not a word we use very much except on this particular Sunday, this pivotal Sunday between the end of Epiphany and the beginning of Lent. In Luke’s Jesus narrative, the Transfiguration is also pivotal. It takes place between the end of Jesus’ ministry in Galilee and his death in Jerusalem.
It is a well-known but mysterious episode. As Jesus prays, his face changes and his clothes become dazzling white. He, along with Moses and Elijah, are thus glorified. “Glorified” is also a word we don’t use very often, at least in its original meaning of “deified” or “worshipped.” But that is how Luke uses it in this mountain story. Indeed, it is the main theme.
In the verses just before Luke’s account of the Transfiguration, Jesus asks the disciples, “Who do the crowds say that I am?“ Various answers are given, but it is up to Peter, as usual, to take a risk: “The Messiah of God.” (9:18-20). Even so, despite the time the disciples have spent with Jesus, listening to his teaching and watching him heal, his real identity and mission are little understood, even by Peter.
The Transfiguration further reveals Jesus’ identity to his rather thick-headed disciples. This glimpse of his glory and, ultimately, the glory which we will all share with him. This glory was meant to strengthen the three disciples (and us) for the suffering of the cross. The presence of Moses and Elijah demonstrate Jesus’ relationship to the law and the prophets that have come before.
The conversation among the three predict the coming departure of Jesus when he is executed in Jerusalem, resurrected, and ascended.
God himself weighs in, speaking from a bright cloud: “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him” (v.35). Then, the Transfiguration ends as mysteriously as it began, and the three disciples see before them their familiar Jesus, without all the dazzle, all alone.
They descend the mountain in total silence. They will not see Jesus glorified in such a way again until the Ascension when he will rise, dazzling once more, to sit at God’s right hand.
Of course, Luke’s narrative doesn’t end with the mountainous descent. I am thankful to Sally James, our resident art historian (how lucky we are to have her) for pointing out that in Raphael’s famous rendition of the Transfiguration, another scene appears in the lower half of the painting, that of the demon-possessed boy, whose father begs Jesus for healing.
In Luke’s narrative Jesus’ healing of the boy takes place the next day, that is, as a second episode, but Raphael chooses to remind us that during the Transfiguration on the mountain, life in the valley below goes on pretty much as before. Maybe you feel this way, too, after a spiritual high.
On the simplest level, the painting can be interpreted as depicting a dichotomy: the redemptive power of Christ, as symbolized by the purity and symmetry of the top half of the painting; contrasted with the flaws of humanity, as symbolized by the dark, chaotic scenes in the bottom half of the painting. Had he lived in our time, Raphael might have included the inhumane, criminal Russian invasion of Ukraine, with all the death and hellish destruction it is bringing in its wake.
So what do we make of the Transfiguration, in the 21st century — this mysterious vision of the mountaintop glorification of our Lord? It gives us hope. It assures us of God’s desire for revelation and redemption. It is a vision of Jesus after he has triumphed over death. It offers glimpses of life in the heavenly kingdom. It strengthens Jesus, his disciples (and us) for Lent and the Passion ahead. It provides light in the darkness. As poet Mary Oliver writes:
maybe death
Isn’t darkness, after all,
But so much light
Wrapping itself around us—
Eastern Orthodox icon painters would describe it as a special kind of light. Indeed, it is said that those who would paint icons are first instructed to learn to paint the so-called Tabor light. This is believed to be a special light that illuminated the Transfiguration on Mount Tabor. The icon painter’s challenge is to symbolize the splendor of the divine nature revealed there.
An Eastern Orthodox theologian writes of the feast of the Transfiguration; “It. . . is not simply the commemoration of a past event in the life of Christ. Possessing also an ‘eschatological’ dimension, it is turned to the future, towards the ‘splendor of the Resurrection’ at the Last Day, towards the ‘beauty of the divine Kingdom’ which all Christians hope eventually to enjoy.”
Although Paul doesn’t write about the Transfiguration as it appears in the synoptic gospels, his ideas on transformation are related. He was writing after the crucifixion and resurrection, after his own vision on the road to Damascus. He believes followers of Christ experience his glory ever more and more directly. We are not like Moses who had to veil his shining face after time spent with Yahweh in receiving the Ten Commandments. With the new covenant, with Christ, our veils have been removed.
In Paul’s words:
“And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit” (3:18).
An antique mirror made of polished bronze, such as Paul would be thinking of, would give only an imperfect reflection. Paul believes our present experience of the gifts of God’s Spirit — our mountain top moments, are likewise imperfect, only reflections of the glorious reality of God, the reality which you and I will personally see in God’s new world.
The joy or blessedness given in the vision of God is reflected in the beatitude “blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Mt 5:8).
It is not a theoretical knowledge but a personal knowledge of the incomprehensible mystery and love of God. In some traditions, this is called the beatific vision. But that is often thought to come only at the end of life. I believe you and I can and do have an awareness of Christ, an experience of his glory, in this life. Through faith, through prayer, through love, through mountaintop moments.
— The Rev. Deacon Shirley Ruedy, Deacon, Trinity Episcopal Church of Staunton
Collect for Transfiguration
O God, who on the holy mount didst reveal to chosen witnesses thy well-beloved Son, wonderfully transfigured, in raiment white and glistening: Mercifully grant that we, being delivered from the disquietude of this world, may by faith behold the King in his beauty; who with thee, O Father, and thee O Holy Ghost, liveth and reigneth, one God, world without end. Amen.
