Transfiguration A 2nd March 2014
Exodus 24: 12-18
Matthew 17: 1-9
I don’t know about you – but things seem rather difficult at the moment. I’m finding it hard to watch the news or read the paper without feelings of despair. Stories of innocent asylum seekers being beaten and even murdered on Manus Island, images of a tide of humanity surging down a street in Syria seeking aid to survive, the seemingly never ending litany of companies laying off workers in Australia, the ever worsening forecast for climate change that we seem to lack the impetus to address. And of course, closer to home in our own church there is anger, despair, fear for the future. I suspect I’m not the only one here today who feels like this, for whatever reason.
Perhaps it was ever thus, but as I head into Easter this year I find myself more desperate than ever for a word of hope: a sign that there may be some thing positive ahead for our church, our country, our human species, our planet.
It is interesting that the story of the Transfiguration is the one which precedes the season of Lent each year. Just as we turn our attention and direction to the cross, taking 40 days to walk the way of Jesus as he journeys toward Jerusalem, we pause and reflect on a story of Jesus atop a mountain in conversation with two of the greatest of the heroes of the Hebrew Scriptures, attended by three of his closest followers. Perhaps this mountain top tale is meant to give us some rest, some inspiration, some sustenance for the journey ahead.
I particularly love going to the mountains. I’ve been fortunate enough to visit some of the most mountainous places on earth, mainly on school trips. I’ve taken students to the Himalayas in Tibet, Jade Dragon Snow Mountain in Southern China and to the Colca Canyon and Machu Picchu in Peru. Even with hoards of teenagers in tow mountains are still a place of mental respite and contemplation, of glory and wonder. Mountains are places that encourage us to look up – to look beyond – that inspire us to seek for the transcendent – the Wholly Holy Other.
Mountains are also places of fear. Listen to any mountain climber talk about their conquests and you’ll find that the story is mostly one of conquering their own fears, rather than the mountain. As one writer put it: “Mountain climbing is extended periods of intense boredom, interrupted by occasional moments of sheer terror.” I certainly experienced this trekking in the Colca Canyon – the world’s deepest canyon, as I hiked along a tiny goat track, dealing with a nasty tummy bug and hoping I wouldn’t fall over the edge, I certainly contemplated my own mortality. Mountains are places where we can experience and conquer our fears.
It’s no surprise that the mountains form the setting for stories of encounter with God in both the Hebrew Scriptures and the gospels. Stories that mix the elements of awe and wonder with fear.
The setting of the transfiguration narrative on a mountain top intends to evoke in us these same sense of awe, wonder and fear as our experiences of real mountains. Many of the moments when human beings encounter the divine, for example: Moses on Mount Sinai receiving the 10 commandments – occur on mountain tops.
Before I go on to explore this idea further, I want to hit the pause button for a moment and take you on a tangent. Clearly the story of the transfiguration is not a piece of history – a “true story” of a “real moment in time” when Moses and Elijah appeared from beyond the grave for a tete a tete with Jesus. If it is not historical, can it be “true”? Or to put it another way, if it’s not an actual event, can we still find elements of “capital T truth” within it?
There are many different ways of understanding this story and of exploring the “truth” within it. While the transfiguration is obviously an event that belongs to the realm of “mythos,” rather than being an historical recollection of an actual event, never the less as with all ‘mythic stories,’ this story of the transfiguration points to a truth that is greater or beyond itself. Karen Armstrong explains this thoughtfully in her book A Short History of Myth. A mythic story, like the transfiguration, is hard for us to manage because of our strictly chronological view of history. She points out that: “ Mythology is an art form that points beyond history to what is timeless in human existence, helping us to get beyond the chaotic flux of random events, and glimpse the core of reality.”[1] The transfiguration then, rather than being “true” because it happened in historical time, points to greater truths beyond our earthly realm in ‘Kairos’ or God’s time rather than ‘Chronos’ or Chronological time. In other words, stories such as the transfiguration allow us to see and experience moments of transcendence – a glimpse of something beyond our own imagining. A ‘mountain-top’ experience, if you will.
There are clues in the text that the story of the transfiguration fits within the mythic genre. Firstly the appearance of Moses and Elisha, clearly identified by the viewers alerts us to the fact that this is an other worldly story.
Likewise the appearance of Jesus in “sparkling white” (literally a white so bright that a “fuller”- one who whitens cloth- could not produce it) echoes the prediction of Daniel 12 that the righteous will shine like stars in the sky. Whiteness also reminds us of Moses on the mountaintop: Both events are surrounded in brightness. Moses’ face shone when he returned from speaking with God, likewise Jesus’ face shines here.
So: How does this story of Jesus meeting with legends of the Hebrew Scriptures speak into our fear and distress today? The story occurs “6 days” after Jesus has revealed to his disciples that he is heading for death in Jerusalem, and that they must “take up their cross and follow me.” The disciples, and quite probably the human Jesus are caught up in very real visceral fear of immanent death.
So what happens in the story, and how does it transform the lives of the disciples?
And even more importantly, how might it speak into our current situation?
Peter’s initial response to the sight of Jesus speaking to Moses and Elijah, his face shining like the sun, is to want to capture the extraordinary glory of the moment by building booths or tents so that they could continue to dwell with God on the mountain. But in so doing, he misses the point. The transfiguration, mountain top experience is a cursory one.
The disciples cannot remain there – they must return to the plain – to journey towards Jerusalem with Jesus. However the tents are an important symbol as they remind us that Jesus is “God-with-us” the one who following his resurrection sends his Spirit to dwell amongst us. The transfiguration is a foretaste of the Kingdom or Resurrection life: Jesus’ life continues on in us and through us: we his followers are to become living temples of the Lord.
However as the presence of the Holy-Other – God-with-us, is revealed, as the voice booms from the cloud: ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’ Peter and his fellow disciples throw themselves to the ground in fear.
This is a natural human reaction of course. I imagine many of us would react with fear in the face of a direct engagement with the divine. But Jesus, God’s beloved son who knew them personally, reaches out to them in the midst of their fear. “Do not be afraid.” And when Peter looks up, Jesus is standing alone – the vision has ended.
If there is one thing that I hope we all remember from today, from this story, it is this. The transfiguration shows us that God, through Jesus, reaches into human lives and transforms us. Fear becomes hope. Once we have come to know Jesus, God-who-dwells-with-us, we can never be the same. It is with this certain knowledge that we can face whatever fears assail us – even as we walk with Jesus towards the Cross.
We as Christians, those who carry the God who dwells within with us, both as individuals and as the corporate body of the church, are called to bear witness to that transformation. Instead of fearing the future, fearing death, fearing lonliness, we are reminded through this story of the transfiguration that even beyond death Jesus walks with us. And just as he transformed his frightened confused bunch of disciples into the leaders of the early church, we too ought to expect that as we encounter Jesus, God would transform us too: both as a church and as individuals.
My colleague in ministry and beloved husband Rev. Brendan Byrne put it thus: “Today’s reading is a calling, not just into the future, not just into a new and different future, but into a transfigured future, a future that does not seek to re-enact the past, but which embodies and fulfils the past in order to create and to be a transformed humanity, a humanity called to life and to the abundance of life. A humanity that is prepared to let go of everything it held precious and sacred, in order to be the sacred people of God, precious to God.”[2]
I pray that this will be true of me, of you, and of us as a church as we continue to journey together. AMEN.
[1] Armstrong, Karen, (2005) A Short History of Myth, Cannongate: Great Britain p7-8
[2] Brendan Byrne, The Still Circle, http://stillcircle.wordpress.com/2014/03/01/matthew-17-1-9-2/
A Preacher's Tale 