Transfiguration (2/18/07) “Reflecting God’s Rays”

Luke 9.28-36

This haunting account of the “Transfiguration of Christ” is very difficult for us to grasp. Dazzling raiment, visions of Moses and Elijah, voice from heaven, overshadowing clouds—these all make this story seem far-removed from us. How much more comfortable we are with parables and miracles and other more earthly aspects of Jesus’ life and ministry!

And yet this Transfiguration story has some very important things to teach us. Like the disciples, we are often sluggish and sleepy and not very quick to understand. But this morning I’d like you to consider this “mountaintop experience” as a paradigm of what happens to us in worship. When we worship God, something very unusual and indescribable is happening. We are not just gathering to learn, though we often do learn. We are not just gathering for fellowship, though we always do enjoy our fellowship with one another. We are not just gathering to listen to music, though we do appreciate the offerings of organ and choir and we do enjoy singing. But all those things are secondary to the real reason we are here: when we gather to worship, we are coming to the mountaintop, joining Peter, James, and John in the presence of God.

How did this trio get to this mountain? They did not just decide it was a nice day for some mountain climbing; it was Jesus who invited them and gathered them and brought them here. And that is how it happens with us. The catechism says it this way: “I cannot by my own understanding or effort believe in Jesus Christ my Lord, or come to him; but the Holy Spirit has called me through the gospel . . .” When we come to this mountain, when we gather for worship, it is because we are called to do so, invited by the Lord who knows that here on this mountaintop there is something we need to experience, that here in this place we can catch a glimpse of the glory of God that isn’t available elsewhere.

And so the disciples are gathered together by Christ. When they get to the mountaintop, they discover Christ having a conversation with Moses and Elijah, who often in the Bible represent the Law and the Prophets. And of course that happens as well on our mountain top. When we gather here, one of the most important things we do is listen to the witness of those like Moses and Elijah who have left their testimony in the Holy Scriptures, and through whom we hear the Word of God. Our time on the mountain becomes a time to listen and to reflect on that witness, a time to hear advice and counsel, a time to learn of God from those who have gone before us.

So many things happen so fast on this Mount of Transfiguration that it is almost hard to focus on details, but surely one of the most dramatic is the voice, coming from the cloud, apparently the voice of the Eternal Father saying “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him.” A powerful moment, but even more so when we recall that we heard a similar voice and similar words just a few weeks ago in the story of Jesus’ baptism: “This is my beloved Son.” So there on that mountain is an echo of that Baptism, and a reassurance that this is the Father’s Son.

And here on our mountain, the same echo. When we were baptized, Christ chose us as his own. As we come to worship, we pass right by that baptismal font which proclaims its reminder that God has chosen us; and through our liturgy, our hymns, our words we are reminded again and again of that wonderful promise we received in our baptism: You are my own beloved Child!

Of course this whole experience of Transfiguration has a dramatic impact on Jesus. The gospel speaks of his being changed, of his countenance changing and his garments glistening. Being in the presence of God is a powerful experience, and it brings about change. That’s how our mountaintop is, too. We cannot come to worship and truly be in God’s presence without finding ourselves changed. That change is more than simply learning something new; it is a deeper change that writes itself upon our heart and even upon our face. Several years ago the late Mother Theresa visited the United States and spoke to crowds wherever she went. I recall reading about the incredible impact her face seemed to have on people—how just her simple smile would move people almost to tears. Hers was a countenance that was changed by communion with Christ, changed in a way that made this rather plain and wrinkled face a reflection of the glory of the mountaintop. That comes from being in God’s presence, and it is what God wants to happen to us here, on our mountain top.

Then it is important to notice what is happening with Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration. As he speaks with Moses and Elijah, Luke says that they “spoke of his departure,” and what he was to accomplish at Jerusalem. There are two interesting things to notice here. One is that the purpose of this experience is for Jesus to prepare. He withdraws to the mountain, but it is not to stay there forever. No, even on the mountain his goal is Jerusalem. His conversation with Moses and Elijah, his being overshadowed by the cloud, his hearing the voice from the Father, all are part of his preparation for Jerusalem, the real world and the difficult mission that awaits him below. That is true of our mountain top as well. We, no less that Jesus, have a real world. Ours is not Jerusalem, but job, school, family. Here on our mountaintop, we are prepared to go back and accomplish what the Lord has given us to do. Here we are strengthened for the difficult task ahead.

Moses and Elijah spoke of his “departure.” That word “departure” is the Greek word “exodus.” It carries with it a hint of the Old Testament exodus and all that it means; and the implication, for those who know their Bible well, is that our attention is to be focused not just on the wilderness at hand, but on the promised land ahead. For Jesus, the exodus leads him to Jerusalem, but he does not stop there. His path goes beyond a cross to a resurrection. And with us it is the same. On our mountain top, we are prepared and fortified for our journey back to the real world. But we are reminded as well of that journey’s destination: the day of resurrection, when we shall be with Christ. In this sacrament of Holy Communion, we have a “foretaste of the feast to come.” These moments spent on this mountain top keep that vision before us—just as Peter, James and John must have thought back to their mountain top whenever the going got rough, to remind themselves of what must lie ahead in the kingdom for which they were bound.

What happens in worship is hard to describe. The three disciples did not know what to say, so they kept silence. And we often feel the same way. How do you explain to someone who is not a Christian why you find worship so important? How do you explain it to someone who doesn’t know? Perhaps the best explanation is just the way we live—the way we live which is transformed and changed by what happens here. The great Russian novelist Solzhenitsyn wrote about it this way:

Atop the ridge of earthly fame,

I look back in wonder at the path

which I alone could never have found,

A wondrous path through despair to this point

from which I, too, could transmit to [humankind]

a reflection of your rays.

And as much as I must still reflect,

you will give me.

“A reflection of God’s rays.” That is what we experience here, what we receive here, what we take from here into our lives. May God give us grace to see his glory, to take the peace and joy and faith and love that we find on this mountain top, and then to go back into the world in peace to serve the Lord.

Solzhenitsyn quote: Solzhenitsyn: A Pictorial Autobiography (p. 88, The Noonday Press, 1974)