This is a very lightly revised version of my old sermon Jesus Of The Transfiguration.
Weak In The Presence Of Beauty: The Transfiguration, Matthew 17:1-9 (Sunday Before Lent, Year A, 2023)
One of the early solo hit singles by the singer Alison Moyet was entitled ‘Weak In The Presence Of Beauty’. The words describe the protagonist bumping into an old boyfriend, and they imply that this man was bad news. However, he was also good-looking, and the singer knows she cannot afford to spend time with him, for fear that she will go ‘weak in the presence of beauty.’
When we are in the presence of beauty, we do strange things. We stop being rational. Men stumble over their words in the presence of a beautiful woman. Peter babbles incoherently in our reading when he sees Jesus transfigured and Moses and Elijah appear.
4 Peter said to Jesus, ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters – one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.’
Other Gospels tell us he just didn’t know what to say.
The spiritual equivalent to being overwhelmed by beauty is to be overcome by the tangible presence of God. Right now, there is a story in the news that exemplifies that.
On Wednesday 8th February, a regular daily act of worship began in a chapel at Asbury Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky. It’s still going on. People have so encountered God that they have not wanted to leave. Some are caught up in passionate worship. Others are on their knees, repenting of sin. Still others are sharing testimony to what God is doing then and there in their lives. Others are bringing prophetic words. People are travelling great distances to join the queue and get into the chapel. The American fast food chain Chick-Fil-A has been delivering food to the chapel so that some people can eat there and remain longer.
Does that sound like religious mania to you? If it does, let me bring you down to earth. Asbury Seminary is one of the leading training institutions in the United States for … Methodist ministers. Two of the New Testament scholars who I most frequently use in my studies and quote in my sermons, Craig Keener and Ben Witherington, are Asbury professors.
It’s too early to classify this formally as a revival, but it has all the hallmarks of a work of God. There are some similarities to outpourings of the Spirit as described in the Book of Acts. What is going on at Asbury is a return to Methodist roots, because we were a revival movement at the beginning – a revival movement where it was nothing unusual for people to be overcome by the tangible presence of God, just as Peter, James, and John were at the Transfiguration.
Now here’s the question I have this week about the Transfiguration experience. Who was it for?
And I have to say that I have changed my mind about my answer. In previous years, I have looked at the Transfiguration and those amazing words from heaven that affirm who Jesus is, and I’ve said: that was for Jesus. The words from heaven are very similar to those that come from Heaven at his baptism to affirm him before his public ministry starts. Now, he is about to embark on his journey to Jerusalem where he will suffer and die, and this equips him for it. When I have preached that in the past, I have emphasised how often dramatic experiences of God occur in the church among those who suffer for their faith, and there is some truth in that. I can support that from church history and personal testimony.
But as I said, I’ve changed my mind. I now think the Transfiguration, with its powerful experience of God’s nearness, was for the disciples.
Why? The voice from heaven was not addressed to Jesus, but to the disciples:
5 While he was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them, and a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!’
Listen to him! That can only be addressed to the disciples! Why didn’t I see this before? That’s what I’ve been asking myself in the last few days!
And that’s one of two things that follow for disciples of Jesus from their dazzling spiritual experience: listen to Jesus.
They needed to hear that message. Just before the Transfiguration Jesus has prophesied for the first time that he will suffer and die. They couldn’t handle it. Peter in particular rejected it. That didn’t fit with their understanding of a triumphant Messiah.
So at the Transfiguration God takes matters in hand with these men who will be apostles. Listen to Jesus. He is my Son. I love him, he’s doing great things.
The particular thing they need to heed from Jesus is the necessity of him going to the Cross, as I said. It would be the centre of the Christian message. It would be the means of transformation for anyone who comes to Christ, for there they find love, forgiveness, and a new start. If you go away from the message of the Cross, then you also depart from Jesus.
I mentioned last week that my Byfleet church recently hosted a wedding blessing for a couple from a church that didn’t have its own premises. After the service, everyone was invited to write a message to the happy couple in a special book. This is what I wrote:
Stay together at the foot of the Cross and you won’t go wrong.
We have the reading about the Transfiguration on the Sunday before Lent starts, precisely for this reason. From here Jesus starts his journey to Jerusalem in earnest, knowing he will be betrayed, falsely convicted, tortured, and killed. If you want to go with Jesus from the Mount of Transfiguration, you have to go with him to Calvary.
I think that’s why many of the people in the chapel at Asbury Seminary were on their knees, confessing their sins. Their dramatic experience of God’s presence took them to the Cross.
And like the wedding couple whom I advised to ‘stay together at the foot of the Cross’, it is not a place that we visit once and from which we then move on. It is a place to dwell.
You may not fully understand it. Like those first disciples, you may feel like you only have a few pieces of the jigsaw and you need more in order to see the big picture God is putting before you. But when you do, you will see a picture of the Cross.
So listen to Jesus, and go to the Cross.
The second of the two things that follow from the awesome experience of God at the Transfiguration is something not said by the Father from Heaven, but by Jesus:
6 When the disciples heard this, they fell face down to the ground, terrified. 7 But Jesus came and touched them. ‘Get up,’ he said. ‘Don’t be afraid.’
It may be natural when God’s presence comes close in awesome power to be afraid. This may be a genuine setting for ‘The fear of the Lord.’
And given that most times we don’t experience God as so close (and maybe, if we’re honest, don’t want to) when he comes that near to us it’s not surprising that the nearness of his holiness shows up our lack of holiness. So no wonder the response of many to such an encounter is the confession of sin.
But while that may be a necessary stopping point on the journey, it isn’t the destination. Jesus doesn’t want his disciples to remain permanently in the place of fear. Yes, God is holy – but he also loves us. Yes, we need to confess our sins – but God also wants to forgive us and renew us.
So this is an invitation to get going in the life of the kingdom in close fellowship with Jesus. The One who was seen in blazing light by the disciples and who will also be seen in blazing light at his return is the One who will accompany us in life.
So as we like Peter, James, and John prepare to come down from the mountain-top experience, we do so knowing that whatever trials will test us and whatever mundane things threaten to take the shine off the glory, Jesus the Transfigured One is still with us. His light and glory are not far away.
For us, of course, it is not his physical presence but the presence of his Spirit. And while we might prefer, as a child once said, ‘God with skin on’, the fact that his Spirit accompanies us makes it possible for him to be close to all who honour his Name.
Yes, I know there are times when he tests our faith by hiding behind the clouds of life for a protracted period, but he is still not far away from us.
And if he does come in splendour and glory into our lives, don’t run. Hear him say, ‘Don’t be afraid.’ Listen to him and let him take you with him to the Cross.
And allow him to draw close to you as friend, even with his stupendous power and authority.
The Transfiguration of Jesus and our Spiritual Experience of God, Luke 9:28-36 (Last Sunday Before Lent, Year C)
In the evening I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate Street, where one was reading Luther’s preface to the Epistle to the Romans. About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.
I began to pray with all my might for those who had in a more especial manner despitefully used me and persecuted me. I then testified openly to all there what I now first felt in my heart. But it was not long before the enemy suggested, “This cannot be faith; for where is thy joy?” Then was I taught that peace and victory over sin are essential to faith in the Captain of our salvation; but that, as to the transports of joy that usually attend the beginning of it, especially in those who have mourned deeply, God sometimes giveth, sometimes withholdeth, them according to the counsels of His own will.
Longstanding Methodists should recognise that extended quote as coming from John Wesley’s Journal for the date 24th May 1738, the date we sometimes call his conversion.
And I read it today as an illustration of Christian experience. His heart is strangely warmed. Yet on the other hand he then expects to be filled with joy but he isn’t, and he learns that sometimes God gives joy and on other occasions he doesn’t.
This live experience of God is something Wesley emphasised as a way of knowing God and his ways in addition to the classic triad of Scripture, the traditions of the church, and human reason.
And if the story of the Transfiguration is about anything, it’s about Peter, James, and John having a vivid experience of God. I think it gives us a good vantage point from which to consider why God does and does not grant us significant spiritual experiences.
Firstly, a spiritual experience is about grace.
Peter, James, and John are not chosen due to their merits or superior spiritual status. No, they are simply chosen by Jesus to accompany him. No more.
We need to remember, then, that if someone has a profound experience of God they are not to be thought of as somehow better than the rest of us. For those who do have the privilege of such things, it can be tempting to think that they are closer to God than others. But it isn’t necessarily the case. A spiritual experience is not a badge to wear, it’s a gift to receive with gratitude. And like Wesley in his analysis of joy, we may or may not know why God has granted it.
If you want any evidence that Peter, James, and John are not of a higher status than the other disciples, you have only to look at what happens after this incident. They come down from the mountain to find the other disciples failing to cast a demon from a boy. But do Peter, James, or John with their extraordinary encounter intervene and sort it out? No. They are no more competent than the rest of the Twelve. They have not been elevated by what happened on the mountain.
If you are granted some special meeting with Almighty God in your life, do not set yourself up as better than your brother and sister Christians. Instead, appreciate the wonder of God’s grace.
And if you come across someone who has a dramatic appointment with God, then equally do not regard yourself as inferior, and do not be envious. And I know this one: I’ve sat in meetings where speakers have picked out people to give them prophetic words from God, but they never pointed to me. Was God not interested in me? Was I not special to him?
But it is all about grace. God has his purposes. Sometimes we understand them, sometimes we don’t, but grace is at the heart of his actions.
Secondly, a spiritual experience is a glimpse.
What do we make of Peter’s blabbering suggestion to put up three shelters – one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah? Even Luke says that Peter didn’t know what he was saying. (Verse 33)
It could be some kind of monument. There are examples in Scripture of people building something to commemorate a particular divine encounter. But the trouble with monuments is we turn them into museums, and we don’t continue with a live, on-going relationship with God in Christ, we just look back with Instagram filters to the past and appoint curators instead of prophets.
I think the New Testament scholar Ian Paul has got it right in assessing Peter’s mistaken suggestion when he writes,
He has not yet understood that this is a momentary drawing back of the curtain, giving him and the other two a glimpse of the heavenly reality of who Jesus really is, but that this is not the end of the story—yet.
‘A momentary drawing back of the curtain.’ Peter, James, and John catch a glimpse of what is to come. It isn’t now, but it’s a sign of what’s to come.
So any Christian who tells us that we should be living in a permanent state of bliss and of heightened spiritual experience is wrong. The end of the story hasn’t happened yet. We know it will come, and occasionally God grants us little foretastes to assure us it’s on the way. But right now we cannot spend all our lives on the mountain in the cloud of glory.
That isn’t meant to be an excuse for those of us who want the very minimum experience of God: those of us who want enough of God to be forgiven but not so much that we are challenged; those of us who are happy to give him Sunday but not Monday to Saturday.
But it is to say, let’s keep spiritual experiences in perspective. We can expect they will happen from time to time (although we cannot predict them). But they happen to keep us oriented towards God’s great future. The true fruit of a powerful divine experience is that we live more passionately for Jesus and his kingdom as a result.
Thirdly and finally, a spiritual experience is an encouragement.
The context is important here. Just before this incident Jesus has given his first prophecy to his disciples that he is going to Jerusalem where he will be betrayed, suffer, die, and be raised again.
It’s picked up in the reading, when Moses and Elijah talk with Jesus:
They spoke about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfilment at Jerusalem. (Verse 31)
His departure? Well, remember there’s an Old Testament book called ‘Departure.’ Exodus! And that’s the Greek word here: exodos. Just as God set his people the Israelites free from the oppression of Egypt in the Exodus, so now his Son will set people free from the oppression of sin by his own exodos at Jerusalem, in his cross and resurrection.
But to face that is terrifying. Nowhere do we see that more clearly than when Jesus prays in Gethsemane. I believe that to help him face that terrible time the Father grants his Son a profoundly close encounter, where he affirms him above all others – even above Moses and Elijah:
A voice came from the cloud, saying, ‘This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.’ (Verse 35)
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that some of the most vivid accounts of people meeting with God come from the testimonies of the persecuted church. These are folk who need the encouragement to stand firm, even in suffering for the name of Jesus. The spiritual experience is not some heavenly tickling just to make us feel good. Often God makes himself known in the most powerful way to those who most need that encouragement.
Certainly, I can look back on the deep experiences of God I have occasionally had and realise that several of them were clustered around a very dark time of my life. God reminded me he was still there and he still had his hand on my life, no matter what I was going through.
As we conclude, note how the story ends:
When the voice had spoken, they found that Jesus was alone. The disciples kept this to themselves and did not tell anyone at that time what they had seen. (Verse 36)
They don’t go back and boast about it. Maybe they sense what I said at first that these experiences are about God’s grace, not our merit. Perhaps they realised the privilege they’d been granted in being given a glimpse of how the great story ends. They might also have felt encouraged, even though doubtless they still didn’t understand the necessity of Jesus suffering.
But I pray that we’re all open to whatever God is saying and doing when he interrupts normal service with something special.
Transfigured Jesus, Transfigured Lives (Mark 9:2-9): Worship for the Last Sunday Before Lent (Transfiguration SundaY)
This is the last of our Epiphany/Ordinary Time themes before Lent kicks off on Wednesday. I shall then be following the series ‘Worship in the Wilderness‘ from Engage Worship throughout Lent. If you want to follow that devotionally, you can buy a book to go along with it.
Our set reading from Mark’s Gospel takes quite a leap this week from last week. For the last few weeks we’ve been in the beginning of the first half of Mark, looking at the early ministry of Jesus.
But this week we jump to the beginning of the second half of Mark’s Gospel. Just before this reading, the first half has come to a climax with Simon Peter confessing that Jesus is the Christ. However, his understanding of that proves to be deficient, when he reacts adversely to Jesus’ first prophecy of his forthcoming suffering and death.
Peter has the right words, the right creed if you like, but not the right understanding. He appears not to be alone, because Jesus teaches the whole crowd about his suffering and also the suffering that his followers will face.
Then he prophesies that some of those present will not taste death until they have seen the kingdom of God come with power (verse 1).
I go into this detail, because Mark clearly links today’s story with that episode in his opening words: ‘After six days’ (verse 2). If Peter and any other disciples cannot understand the link between who Jesus is and how his mission will be carried out through words and arguments, then the experience of a dramatic divine encounter may do the trick.
As a scholar named James Edwards writes,
In Peter’s confession Mark teaches how disciples should think about Jesus (8:33), and in the subsequent transfiguration narrative he allows them to behold his true nature.[i]
If theological argument won’t work, then perhaps experience will.
Firstly, the Transfiguration is a story of divine revelation. Mountains were often places in the Bible where God said or did something special, and all the more if – like this one – it was described as a ‘high mountain’ (verse 2). Specifically, this account is reminiscent of Moses going up Mount Sinai to meet with God and receive the Law. Even the six-day gap between this story and the previous one may echo the six days Moses spent at Mount Sinai with God.
All this, then, should prepare Peter, James, and John for a word of revelation from God. Frightened as we know later on they are (verse 6) – and no surprise at that – the clues are there for them as devout Jews to recognise that they should prepare for a revelation from heaven itself.
Sometimes I wonder how prepared we are to hear from God. Is it because we bumble along from the day to day without tuning ourselves in that we rarely hear from him? Is it that so often God has to interrupt our daily routines in an attempt to catch our ears? Might it be that we could tune ourselves in, ready for when he wants to reveal something to us?
This is why I bang on from time to time about our use of the spiritual disciplines, such as personal Bible reading and prayer. These practices get us used to the voice of God. That voice will not always speak something big and dramatic as in today’s story, but as a baby learns soon to recognise its parents’ voices, so we need to do the same with God. The more we practise the spiritual disciplines, and the more we look and listen for the signs of his presence in our routine duties.
Secondly, the Transfiguration is an account of divine glory.
2b There he was transfigured before them. 3 His clothes became dazzling white, whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them.
Think back to Christmas for a moment. Maybe not this last Christmas specifically, but the Christmas season generally.
Specifically, think back to singing ‘Hark! The herald-angels sing’ and that line, ‘Veiled in flesh the Godhead see.’ God coming in human flesh meant that we were shielded from the dazzling brilliance of God’s glory. It is almost too much to bear, rather like the way we warn children not to gaze directly at the Sun.
But here at the Mount of Transfiguration, all the layers that protect sinful humanity from encountering the divine glory are stripped away.
Despite the faltering description, v. 3 succeeds in conveying that the transfiguration is so complete that Jesus’ clothing as well as his person is transformed. …
The diaphanous garments and brilliant face of Jesus signify total transformation and suffusion with the divine presence.[ii]
Jesus reflects the presence of God every bit as much as Moses did on Mount Sinai, if not more so. God hasn’t spoken his revelation yet, but he is showing up.
So again, Peter, James, and John are being called to attention. What they find themselves in counts. It’s important.
Not every Christian has dramatic experiences of God, but most of us would talk about times in our lives when God has seemed especially close. Sometimes those seasons of closeness and almost tangible presence are there to comfort or reassure us through a hard time, but on many other occasions, like the Transfiguration, God is not simply wanting to give us a spiritual thrill, he is wanting to transform us more into people who reflect his glory.
I simply want to ask whether we are open to that.
Thirdly, the Transfiguration is a narrative of divine supremacy, and specifically of Jesus’ supremacy.
4 And there appeared before them Elijah and Moses, who were talking with Jesus.
Why Elijah and Moses? There have been various theories, but the important thing is this: the way this is worded originally gives an indication that they are not equals with Jesus: ‘they hold an audience with Jesus as a superior.’[iii] They appear and they disappear. There is no command to listen to them. They are ‘representatives of the prophetic tradition that, according to the belief of the early church, would anticipate Jesus.’[iv]
Jesus is superior to both of them. Their lives and ministries pointed ultimately to the fulfilment of God’s plans in Jesus. And Jesus is not merely a prophet, as religions like Islam would have you believe.
Jesus is more than our Friend and our Brother. He is more than the celestial lover that some hymns and worship songs portray. He is more even than Saviour. He is Lord.
Peter, James, and John here are learning that Jesus isn’t just a wonderful rabbi. He’s even more than Israel’s promised deliverer. They owe him their allegiance.
And so do we.
Fourthly, the Transfiguration speaks to us of divine presence.
5 Peter said to Jesus, ‘Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters – one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.’ 6 (He did not know what to say, they were so frightened.)
Poor Peter. He and his friends are scared out of their wits. What comes out of his mouth is something that would be worthy of a typical pious Jew. He wants to build shelters, or tabernacles, and the Jews looked forward to a time when God would build a new tabernacle or dwelling for his presence on earth to replace the old one that Israel had had in the wilderness.[v]
But what he doesn’t yet grasp is that the new tabernacle is here already. Jesus is the new tabernacle. He is the presence of God on earth.
So Jesus is more than one who is ranked higher in God’s ranks than Elijah and Moses. He is the presence of God on earth. That is enough to blow the fuses in the mind of a devout Jew. It is why many learned Jews rejected Jesus.
But when you meet Jesus, you meet God. Later Christians would look at all the biblical data and formulate the doctrine of the Trinity, but here is one major sign of how Jesus expanded and exploded traditional Jewish beliefs about one God, the chosen people, and the messianic hope.[vi]
Jesus, being God who came in human flesh to earth, is the climax of God’s plans. And as such, we see everything through the light of him. We interpret our hopes and dreams in the light of Jesus. We interpret the Scriptures in the light of Jesus. We frame our very lives in the light of Jesus.
When we realise that God has been present on earth through Jesus and that he is still present through his Spirit, how does that change the way we live?
Because it should.
Fifthly and finally, the Transfiguration speaks to us of divine vindication.
7 Then a cloud appeared and covered them, and a voice came from the cloud: ‘This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!’
8 Suddenly, when they looked around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus.
You may recall that a voice from heaven spoke to Jesus in similar terms at his baptism: ‘You are my beloved Son, I am well pleased with you.’ Here, the words are similar, but they are not addressed to Jesus. Instead, God the Father speaks to Peter, James, and John: ‘This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!’
They were to listen to all that Jesus had told them. Doubtless – and most importantly – that referred to his prophecies of his coming suffering and resurrection, which had offended Peter so much.
No: the voice from heaven tells the disciples that what Jesus has said is right and true. You must take it on board, even if you don’t understand it.
When we make Jesus out to sound so much like us, with similar views to us, similar ethical standpoints, similar political views, and so on, then we no longer have Jesus, we have an idol. Jesus will always say and so things that go against the things we cherish. But because of his divine nature, we are the ones who need to change.
And here, that’s just what the Father expects of Peter, James, and John. Put aside your objections to the Cross. Put aside your assumptions that you know better.
And that’s a very fitting place for us to end this week’s reflection, especially as we prepare to enter Lent on Wednesday. The Transfiguration calls us to a life where we increasingly conform our will and our ways the will and the ways of Jesus, who has the right to do this, as God who came to Earth. And whose journey to Earth led to the Cross.
We start that journey again now, and as we go into Lent.
[i] James R Edwards, The Gospel According To Mark, p261.
[ii] Edwards, p263, p264.
[iii] Edwards, p265.
[iv] Edwards, p265.
[v] Edwards, p266.
[vi] ‘Monotheism, election, and eschatology’ in NT Wright’s words.
Sermon: Jesus Of The Transfiguration
A neighbour of ours three doors down periodically changes her photo on Facebook. For a long time it was a snap of her with the rock singer Jon Bon Jovi. Then it became a picture of her with the Hollywood actor Johnny Depp. Michelle looks very happy and relaxed with them. They look pretty happy with her. It does rather help the matter that Michelle is quite glamorous!
Me, I’m not so sure I’d look as cool and laid back with a famous person as she does. Not that I’m terribly interested in handsome male rock stars or actors; I just have to fend off Debbie’s regular ribbing because I once commented how pretty one of the teachers at our children’s school is!
However, as I said, I don’t think I’d be as relaxed as Michelle. I think if I met a hero, or a famous beautiful woman, I think I would be a blubbering mess. How journalists keep their cool to interview well-known people, I don’t know.
All of which makes me rather like Peter at the Mount of Transfiguration. When he offers to make three dwellings – one each for Jesus, Moses and Elijah – Luke comments that he didn’t know what he was saying (verse 33). He’s overwhelmed, and he says something stupid. He’d like to preserve the moment or turn it into something he knows and can cope with – the three dwelling places he proposes are reminiscent of the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles.
But he’s missed the significance of the event as a result of his blubbering, and needs correction. That takes him into the terrifying experience in the cloud, where he hears the frightening, correcting voice of God: ‘This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’ (Verse 35) Don’t get blubbery about Moses and Elijah: listen to Jesus!
And I want to take that as an entry point into thinking about the Transfiguration today. It’s a traditional reading for the last Sunday before Lent, and I want us to look at how it shows Jesus as being superior to Moses and Elijah.
Firstly, Jesus’ superiority to Moses. So you book your dream holiday. You pay the deposit. You renew your passports. A couple of months before going, you pay the balance. A week before the off, you return to the travel agent to pick up your tickets and your currency. A day or two beforehand, you pack your luggage. Everything is ready for your departure.
And the Transfiguration is about a departure – especially in the connection with Moses. When Moses and Elijah appear with Jesus, we read
They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. (Verse 31)
His departure. Why the Moses connection? Because there’s an Old Testament book called ‘Departure’. It’s just that we know it by its Greek name: Exodus. The story of Moses leading God’s people to freedom from Egypt. When Luke writes about Jesus’ departure here, it is in the Greek his exodos. Moses’ departure was a liberation, Jesus’ forthcoming ‘departure’ from Jerusalem will be a liberation, too. But because Jesus is superior to Moses, his liberation will be superior, too.
If it’s Jesus’ departure from Jerusalem, then clearly we’re talking about his death, resurrection and ascension. That departure brings liberation. Jesus has been pointing the way to his future suffering and has said that disciples need to take up their crosses and follow him. Now we begin to understand that what is coming is a freedom event. The Cross will bring freedom. Jesus’ departure in his death is not a tragic event, as I once heard a Methodist church steward call it in the vestry before a Good Friday service. It is sacrificial love for the blessing of the world. Yes, it is agony and injustice. But it is also true heroism.
Now if this is the case, then we have to see the Transfiguration as more than we have often interpreted it. We know that the disciples come back down from the mountain to the challenges of everyday life. Hence we say that you can’t live on ‘mountain-top experiences’ all the time, you have to get on with ordinary living again. But if the Transfiguration points to Jesus’ departure at the Cross, it isn’t about coming down from a ‘high’ to face the mundane and the routine again. Rather, it’s about Jesus being strengthened to face his coming trial.
So if Jesus is being strengthened to face the trial of the Cross here, perhaps this event is similar to one or two others in the Gospels. It might be like the powerful spiritual experience he had at his baptism with the Holy Spirit coming down on him like a dove and – again – a voice from heaven affirming him, immediately before the Spirit leads him to the wilderness to fast and conquer temptation. It might be like the way he was mysteriously strengthened in the Garden of Gethsemane as he wrestled with his forthcoming betrayal and suffering. No wonder we read this on the last Sunday before Lent.
Isn’t it wonderful, then, that Jesus needed to be strengthened before he faced trials, including the greatest of all? And if that’s the case, then perhaps we might interpret our own ‘mountain-top experiences’ differently. They may not simply be a boost before we get back to the grind; they may be God’s way of equipping us for whatever difficulties are coming our way, particularly those where we end up in a painful place because of our faith. Perhaps God has a blessing for us in Christ that will give us the fortitude to face our trials, or perhaps we can look back at problematic times in our lives and see that before then God prepared us with a blessing. He may have given us our own mini-transfigurations. Not in the sense of exalting who we are – he only does that for Jesus – but in empowering and encouraging us.
Secondly, Jesus’ superiority to Elijah. How does Elijah connect with Jesus’ departure? The Moses connection is quite easy to see when you think of the word ‘exodus’, but it’s less easy to see why Elijah should be hanging out with Jesus now, and the particular way in which Jesus is superior to him.
However, there is a link between Jesus’ departure at Jerusalem and Elijah, and it goes like this. For Jews, Elijah was the great prophet of the end-time deliverance. He was the one who was expected to appear before God’s Messiah. You may recall there was a hoo-hah in the Gospels as to whether John the Baptist was Elijah come back from the dead to precede the Messiah. All this means that Elijah was the figure of hope. He signified to Jewish minds that God would make all things right, just and whole in his kingdom. Hence the theme of hope.
That may well have been why Peter almost thoughtlessly suggested the building of three booths, like the Feast of Tabernacles, as I said, because that festival was also known as the Feast of Ingathering, and looked forward to the fullness of God’s kingdom on earth. Peter’s mistake was just to see Jesus as an equal with Moses and Elijah.
But the voice from heaven says, ‘This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’ (verse 35), because Jesus is superior even to Elijah. So we must infer that Jesus brings a superior hope at his departure.
I suggest we find that in his resurrection and ascension. Jesus will be raised physically from the dead. His body will be restored to him in a new way. Jesus’ resurrection body is the beginning of God’s new creation. God will make all things new, and he begins with his own Son. Elijah might be a sign or symbol of hope, but Jesus is more than that: his own resurrection body embodies our hope, even guarantees our hope of a new heaven and a new earth.
So death may and will come, but it doesn’t get the last laugh. God does. We wait in heaven, in what looks from earth like the sleep of death, but one day the Great Surprise will happen when God raises us from the dead and renews his creation. Elijah can teach us much, but only the Son of God can teach us all this. The Christian who dies trusting in Christ does so in peace, because Jesus fills her with hope in ways no-one else can.
And then there’s the ascension, Jesus’ final bodily departure from Jerusalem, reminiscent of the way Elijah left this world yet – again – superior to it. He ascends to the Father’s right hand, where he will reign until everything has been put under his feet. This is the part of hope that sustains us until God makes all things new, when the new Jerusalem descends and all creation is renewed.
It’s easy to lose hope and think that God is not reigning in heaven when we see evil in the world, in the church and in ourselves. No wonder I read yesterday that John Stott apparently once said,
The Christian’s chief occupational hazards are depression and discouragement.
But the Ascension reminds us that Jesus is reigning, even while rebellion takes place against his rule. Battles may be won or lost, but in the final analysis Christ is on the throne. To say that Christ is not reigning because there is still sin in the world would be like saying there cannot be a government in power because crime is still being committed.
In conclusion, then, Jesus at the Transfiguration offers us awesome hope. The liberation of the Cross, the hope in the Resurrection of God’s new creation and the assurance of his reign through the Ascension. Moses and Elijah may have been good, but Jesus outranks them everywhere.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said, ‘Any study of Christ must begin in silence.’ No wonder we read that
When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen. (Verse 36)
Sometimes I’m all for the response to a sermon being in words and deeds after the service. Today, maybe like Peter, James and John, our best response might just be awed silence at the majesty of Christ.
Big Circumstance 