Lent 2, March 12, 2017
Gen 12:1-4a; 2 Tim 1:8b-10; Matt 17:1-9
Brookdale
I love the story of the Transfiguration. Jesus and his disciples spend their time walking the roads of Galilee. He teaches his disciples, he heals, he preaches to the crowds. At Caesarea Philippi, Peter has dared to call Jesus the Messiah, the anointed one, a royal title. Now Jesus goes up on a mountain to pray. Up on a mountain is where Moses talked with God and received the ten commandments. After Moses encountered God on Mount Sinai, his face shone so brightly that he had to wear a veil so as not to frighten the Israelites. On this mountain, Jesus’ face shines, and Moses and Elijah—the giver of the law and the greatest of the prophets—appear with him and talk with him.
So this story starts off about the disciples recognizing that their rabbi, a wandering preacher and healer—the ordinary looking guy with dusty sandals—is actually the equal of Moses, the mediator of the Law, and Elijah, the first and greatest of the prophets. When I hear this story, I feel something like the reverence and awe Peter must have felt. Jesus’ rather ordinary exterior conceals his glory, the way the veil hid Moses’ shining face. There is so much more to reality than we usually can see.
At the Transfiguration, Peter is the first to find his voice. In reverence and awe, he proposes putting up “tents” to honor this moment and this vision. You know, I always wondered about those tents. Does Peter think that Jesus and his friends want to go camping on the mountain? Will they build a bonfire and make s’mores? Sometimes the translation is “booths” instead of tents. Just as mysterious. Actually, the tents are a reference to the “tent of meeting” outside the Israelite camp in the desert in Exodus, where Moses would meet with God. So the tents would be places where people could come to honor Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, or to get advice from them. Peter is getting ready for Jesus to set up shop on the mountain.
We human beings like to build structures, like our national memorials to Jefferson, Lincoln, and Martin Luther King. Indeed, if you go to Mount Tabor in Israel today, where tradition holds that the Transfiguration took place, you will find a Franciscan church there. It was built in 1924 on the ruins of a 12th century Crusader church, which replaced a church from late antiquity (4th-6th century). There are even chapels in today’s church for Moses and Elijah, as Peter originally wanted to build.
But the Bible suggests that God has other ideas. After Peter’s reverent proposal, a luminous cloud overshadows Jesus, and the voice of God speaks from the cloud, calling Jesus his beloved son and telling them, “Listen to him!” Now Peter might have risen to the challenge of seeing Moses and Elijah, but the presence of God prostrates even him. And that’s my initial response to this story. I feel prostrated before the revelation of Jesus’ glory, before the image of heaven breaking into our everyday world, of the ordinary appearing man revealed as the beloved son of God. I want to worship this hidden reality.
That’s my initial response. But reflecting on the story some more, I wonder if God isn’t telling us the same thing he told Peter. The point is not to worship Jesus or to feel awe in his presence, but to listen to him. And what does Jesus say?
Today’s Gospel passage tells us that the Transfiguration takes place “six days later”—that is, six days after Jesus first tells his disciples that he will suffer and die in Jerusalem, and be raised again. And that they must also be ready to suffer. When they come down from the mountain, he heals an epileptic and tells them at length how important it is to take care of the “little ones,” the people who suffer, the sick and wounded, and especially the sinners. Then he tells them again that he will be put to death in Jerusalem, and he starts walking to Jerusalem.
So if I listen to God’s beloved son, what is he telling me? First, that he will suffer and I must accept suffering too. And I need to do what I can for others who suffer too. I need to help, to heal, and to forgive. Jesus’ walk from Galilee to Jerusalem is a symbol of the journey of the Christian life.
The beginning of Lent is a good time to renew ourselves for that journey. Lent is an opportunity to listen to Jesus and live according to his words. It reminds us to be aware of the mystery hidden in the everyday, to help others, to accept the painful things that will certainly happen to us, and always to live in the hope of Easter and the Resurrection.