Luke 9:28-36
Transfiguration
February 10, 2013
William G. Carter
Now about eight
days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went
up on the mountain to pray. And
while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes
became dazzling white. Suddenly
they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory
and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at
Jerusalem. Now Peter
and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed
awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving
him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make
three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” — not knowing
what he said. While
he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified
as they entered the cloud. Then
from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to
him!” 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.
A man I know
lives near Glacier National Park. I don’t know if you have ever been there, but
it is an extraordinary region in the Rocky Mountains of Montana. The main road
is a zig-zag highway going up and over the mountains, called the Going to Sun
Road. When you get off the slightly beaten path, the alpine landscape provides
adventurous hiking and beautiful landscapes.
My friend hikes
there regularly, often taking family and visitors. On one particular hike, he
and his wife were joined by their son and daughter-in-law, another friend, and
her two-year-old son. They walked for a couple of hours and reached the
destination, a pristine mountain lake fed by glaciers. They stood at the lakeshore
admiring the five waterfalls cascading off the mountain face. They listened to
and watched a couple of varied thrushes sing and flit. It stuck them all as
holy ground. They stood to admire the splendor.
Just then my
friend noticed some movement about three hundred feet up the lakeshore. He
looked through his binoculars to see a big mama grizzly bear and her cub. They
splashed playfully through the water. He passed around the binoculars and
everybody had a good look. Then Amy, his daughter-in-law, who was five months
pregnant and particularly aware of the fragility of life, said, “I want to get
out of here.” So they got out. It was holy ground, but it was dangerous ground.[1] It
was a beautiful place, it was a fierce place, all at the same time.
I think about his
description when I hear the story of the Transfiguration. Jesus climbs a
mountain with the three men of his inner circle, Peter, James and John. It
begins as a place for prayer. It is a holy place. But as Jesus prays, something
indescribable happens. He begins to shine with the brightness of the sun. His
face changes. His dusty tunic starts to glow in dazzling light.
It is a strange
story, an unusual story. It is not the kind of thing that happens much in the
Gospels, if only because appears to look so normal. He fits in with the
townspeople. He is not taller or shorter. There is no sign that he is better
looking than anybody else, or that he walked around with a halo over his head.
Jesus is a human being. But in this moment, he is also something else. All the
accounts agree it is a moment of fierce beauty, a moment both holy and
dangerous.
Luke the
storyteller is teaching us something about the nature of spiritual experience. He
does not explain this story and thus explain it away. Neither does he try to
contain it. It is Simon Peter who tries to mark the moment. “Master, let’s
document this place with a monument. Let’s set up a holy shrine. Let’s take
this rare event and try to keep it with a little plaque that says Something
Happened Here.” But the Gospel writer says he was clueless, that Peter did not understand
the words on his own lips. It was the kind of moment that must stay untamed. It
points us to the power at the heart of all life, a power that cannot be
managed, forced, or predicted. God was there, in all glory and mystery. And it
was a fierce beauty indeed.
These moments can come. I
don’t know how frequently they happen inside churches, but plenty of people
have had such moments in the wilds outside. Nature reveals a kind of power,
often seductive and brutal at the same time. A snowstorm comes and it looks so
pretty; and it can hurt you. The wind can blow and the trees start to sway and
dance; and one of those graceful timbers can knock down a house.
I remember backpacking in
the Adirondacks as a young teen, coming around the trail bend on Upper Wolfjaw
Mountain. An open vista took my breath away. It was the first time I can ever
remember gasping. There they were, most of the high peaks of that mountain
range spread out before me. It was beautiful, stirringly beautiful, and there
was no guard rail – just a twelve-hundred foot drop, about three feet ahead
along the slippery trail. It was beautiful and it was frightening. I can still
feel the visceral emotion of awe. Awe tastes like fear.
That seems to be what was
stirring in Peter, James, and John. Jesus with his dirty tunic is suddenly
glowing like he is on fire. In an instant, Moses and Elijah appear, both of
them long dead, now alive. Moses bears the Law, the Torah. Elijah is the
greatest of the Prophets. The entire religious history of the Jews is present
in that moment. The space-time continuum is breached. No wonder Peter sputters
for something to say.
Just then, the cloud of God’s
Presence rolls over them. The mist is so close that it sticks to their skin. And
the Voice that called all creation into existence said, “This is my Chosen One.
This is my child. Listen to him!” The sound of that Voice vibrated through
their bones.
And then it was over. Just
like that.
Belden Lane is a
Presbyterian professor at a Catholic university. He wonders out loud: why does
a Bible story like this happen on a mountain? What is it about a mountain that
makes such moments possible? Is it the fact that they are up in the air, closer
to heaven, and heaven doesn’t have so far to touch down? Actually, he says, it’s
probably that they are barren places, wild places, locations of great extremity
– and whenever we find ourselves in such places in our lives, God can come with
great and fearsome power.
He tells of hiking in the
red rocks of northern New Mexico, in the high desert of 7000 feet. As he is
climbing toward a mesa, he realizes he is lost. It frightens him. He wonders if
he told enough people where he intended to hike. He recalls that thunderheads
can appear out of nowhere, that flash floods can sweep down without a moment’s
notice and could wash him away. The chills went up his spine. He said, “I could
die out here and nobody would know it.” Then it happened: a rain storm suddenly
blew in, the torrential water pounded down, a swift river formed quickly and
Lane took last-minute refuge in a small cave. It was a moment of Biblical proportions,
he said, and he had the sense that he was being tested to see what he was made
of.
You see, what happens on the
mountain does not only reveal something about Jesus; it reveals a good bit more
about us. In the apparent indifference of nature, we discover if we are willing
to trust God, if we have the character and the faith and the wits to stick it
out. And if we do, and if we can, we come down from the mountain changed. We
are different people. Exposed, wind-blown, and a bit shaken. Something happens
up there that makes a difference down here.
Luke says Jesus conversed
with Moses the Lawgiver and Elijah the Prophet. Only Luke shares the content of
the conversation. Jesus spoke with them about his “departure” which would come
in Jerusalem. Actually the word “departure” is a poor translation. The better
word is “exodus.” They talked about his “exodus.” Moses knows a thing or two
about an Exodus – leading the slaves out of Egypt, getting out from under
Pharoah’s oppression, relying on God to lead the way so they weren’t buried by
the sea. And the Exodus of Jesus is the way he would lead his people out of
slavery, get them out from oppression, relying on God to lead them out. He
would do this in Jerusalem – on the cross, then busting out of the tomb,
granting freedom to those bound by their own human brokenness. The mountaintop
Jesus, in all his heavenly splendor, would get himself dirty to set his people
free. The beauty of God’s rescuing love would be revealed in the fierceness of
death and resurrection.
It reminds me of that little
conversation in C. S. Lewis’ children’s book, The Lion, The Witch, and the
Wardrobe. The children hear about Aslan, the great Christ-Lion who is
coming to set his people free. One of them asks a pair of talking beavers from
the kingdom, “Is he safe?”
Mr. Beaver says, “Safe? Who
said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the
King, I tell you.”
That’s exactly right. Is
Jesus Christ safe? Is the Living One, the Chosen One, the One who Speaks Whom
We Must Hear – is he safe? Of course not. He will change you. He is not safe.
But he’s good. He’s very good. There is no one better. And we see him on the
stark, wild mountain in the fierce beauty of his grace.
As for Peter, James, and
John, I wonder if they looked at Jesus again in quite the same way. Luke says they
didn’t say a word about what they saw. They probably didn’t have the words to
describe it. Not then, and certainly not for a while. Before they climbed the
mountain, they had seen a great deal. They watched Jesus heal, they saw him preach
and teach. On his behalf, they passed out bread and fish to a huge crowd and
they took note that everybody had been fed. Right before they climbed the
mountain, Peter went so far to declare, “Jesus, you are the Messiah of God!”
But then, before them, he
became as bright as the sun. The Voice said, “This is the Chosen One, this is
my Son, this is the One to listen to.” This one. Right here. The one right in
front of you. He wasn’t safe, but he was good.
Luke says Jesus went right back
on the trail: he heals a convulsive boy, he teaches his leaders about humility,
he broadened their limited understanding to see there are many on God’s team. Then,
when he hears a couple of them wanting to curse and destroy a Samaritan village,
he yells at them and says, “Knock it off!” Because he is the One who they saw
on the mountain:
·
God’s Chosen One to cure the captives of disease and desolation
·
God’s Own Child who comes in the deepest humility of heaven
·
God’s Beloved Messiah who gives himself to set his loved ones free
Oh, I know. We have heard
plenty about Jesus: the ancient sage, the Jewish rabble-rouser, the woodcutter
with the dirty feet. But sometimes we might see him, really see him, and we
glimpse so much more. Why, he is beautiful . . . and he is not safe. He could
change your life if you invite him to shine in his fierce beauty.
(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.
[1] Eugene Peterson, The Jesus Way (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
2007) 131
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