Year A
February 23, 2020
Matthew 17:1-9
Transfiguration comes as this bridge between Epiphany and Lent. A bridge between the season where Jesus is revealed as Son of God, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, as light in the darkness and the season marked by the journey to Jerusalem and to the cross. We come to worship this weekend seemingly with a foot in each season - we are still in the liturgy of the Epiphany season (with This is the Feast, singing Alleluia as part of the Gospel acclamation), yet we are also looking forward toward Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent with its midweek services, lenten meals, etc. We’re moving from the uplifting stories of Jesus’ baptism and the challenging words of Law from the Sermon on the Mount to readings that show us that this Messiah, this Son of God is not the messiah we’d choose or that we’d expect, but the Messiah who reveals God’s self-emptying and life-transforming nature, a nature marked by servanthood, forgiveness, mercy, and never ending love for all the world, a nature marked by the cross.David Lose, a pastor and a professor at Luther Seminary, talks about this season in this way: “Across [Epiphany]’s Sundays, we discover the significance of the Jesus whose birthday we just celebrated… In this regard, I like to think of the Christmas message as a tightly, even intricately packaged Christmas gift which takes the whole of Epiphany to unwrap and discover. Transfiguration Sunday draws the season to a close, and Matthew’s account provides the nearly perfect bookend to the story of Jesus’ baptism that we read on the first Sunday of Epiphany… At the same time, Tranfiguration leans unmistakably into Lent, as Jesus comes down the mountain to head to the death he speaks of during that very descent.”
Our gospel lesson for today also has a foot in both seasons, so to speak. On one hand, today’s gospel echos the season of Epiphany, revealing something about Jesus’ identity in this moment of transfiguration - a change in form, a metamorphosis - on this mountain. The transfiguration itself is revealing, perhaps, a glimpse of a future post-resurrection glory, or that Christ is light in the darkness, or that Christ has a place among the Jewish great prophets, but more importantly, today’s Gospel reveals or confirms who this Jesus person is in relationship with God and in relationship to the world. As the scene unfolds, the bright cloud overshadows them, and a voice from the cloud says, “This is my son the beloved, with whom I am well pleased,” drawing us back to the words of God from Jesus’ baptism. In this way, this Transfiguration of Christ serves to not only reiterate but also to confirm the identity of Christ revealed in his baptism. This is the Son of God, in whom divinity and humanity become one and can no longer be separated.
This Son of God, revealed both here in the Transfiguration and in the Baptism at the Jordan, is one opposed to the typical workings of this world, is one opposed to a religious establishment that has seemingly turned inward, and is one opposed to the Roman empire and its emperors (who in Roman society were also thought to be sons of God). Whereas this world sees power in strength, in might, and in riches, Christ as the Son of God models power found in service, in humility, in community, in love of God and stranger.
On the other hand, when we look closely at this passage and put it within its context, the Transfiguration pushes us into Lent and into the journey to the cross. Within the Gospel of Matthew itself, this passage comes at a point of transition; the focus is shifting from the ministry of Jesus to Israel to Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem and to the cross. Just a few verses earlier, Peter is the first person within the Gospel to confess that Jesus is the Messiah, which signals the beginning of that shift. Jesus then explains what it means to be the Messiah, foretelling his death and resurrection for the first of three times, and he explains what it means to be a follower of this Messiah, telling the disciples that they must pick up their crosses and follow him. Following today’s passage, Jesus cures a boy of a demon and then foretells his death and resurrection for the second time. Because of it’s position within the Gospel of Matthew, the transfiguration cannot be separated from the journey to the cross and Jesus’ impending death and resurrection.
Furthermore, in the passage itself, the Gospel pushes us forward to the fulfillment of Christ’s identity as the son of God in his suffering, death, and resurrection. This Messiah, this Son of God is one that is deeply rooted in the sufferings of the world, to the point of his own death on the cross. In this moment seemingly of glory, of seeing Christ in dazzling white, of seeing Christ conversing with Moses and Elijah, Christ’s death and resurrection may seem distant, yet it is ever drawing closer.
Maybe, just maybe, we don’t give enough credit to Peter here. I think there’s a piece of him that knows – that really knows – that he’ll need to hold onto this experience as they journey forward. He has already heard Jesus tell of his impending death once. And the weight of Jesus’ declaration is slowly creeping in. And while we could read Peter’s response, as wanting to avoid that fate by remaining in this place, I wonder if we could see it another way. I wonder if Jesus’ words are finally starting to creep in and Peter knows that he’ll need to hold onto a picture of this moment to cope with what is about to come. And by holding onto the moment just a little longer, grasping on it a little longer, dwelling there a little longer, he feels like he can be better prepared for what is to come.
While no one directly answers the question, based on the rest of the passage, the answer becomes clear: they will not and cannot remain on the mountain top. His thought is interrupted The voice from the clouds points Peter, James, and John to Jesus as God’s Son. That voice from the clouds adds a command: “Listen to him!” The three disciples fall to the ground, literally fall on their faces, overcome by awe and by fear. Jesus comes over to them, touches them, and says “Get up and do not be afraid.” He touches them with the reassurance of their teacher, their friend, with the hand that has been with them the whole time. Peter already has what he needs; he doesn’t need to stay there. The presence of God in Jesus goes with them into the darkest places of the world. The one that has already been with them will be the one that sustains them through the end.
These two commands - “Listen to him” and “Get up and do not be afraid” - push the disciples out of this moment of glory on top of a mountain down toward the other disciples, the people, and finally toward the cross. It is these commands, along with Jesus’ touch, that push these three disciples back down the mountain, transforming them, providing strength and reassurance for journey ahead of them, with all of its struggles and hardships. These words assure them that the divine presence remains with them in Christ even as they move away from the mountain top. The divine presence doesn’t stay on the mountain, but in Christ, the divine comes down, dwells with the people, and takes the hard road to Jerusalem and to the cross.
Today, the Transfiguration pushes us to what is to come. Jesus’ messiahship is rooted in the cross and the journey there. The cross is the place where God’s self-emptying and life-transforming nature is finally fully revealed. Here, Christ chooses to meet us and all of humanity, in weakness, in vulnerability, in loneliness and isolation, in suffering, in dying. It is a mission that cannot be separated from the realities of the hardships of human existence. No wonder Jesus tells the disciples (and us) not to be afraid; it isn’t just a response to the terror of hearing God’s voice directly from the clouds, it is also in anticipation of the journey to come. Upon recognizing who Jesus is, the disciples, along with Christ, must come down from the mountain. They must journey toward the cross, transformed by the knowledge that they do not walk this journey alone. But they journey to the cross with the reassurance that, whether shining on the mountain top, or in the valley of the shadow of death, Jesus remains. God’s beloved son will not leave them – or us. The glory on the mountaintop points to the presence of God that stays with us in the suffering in the valley. This is a God who descends again and again from the mountain to the depths of the world and its suffering.
That God who descends comes with a promise – the Easter promise tucked in at the end of this passage – The Son of Man/ Humanity will be raised from the dead. There is something about the mountain top and about the journey to the cross that cannot be fully understood except through the lens of the resurrection. It is a promise that the darkness of the world and the darkness of our lives will not have the final answer, but the glory of God will break through again, that life and light will have the final word. The darkness of Good Friday will lead to the brightness of Easter morning.
After moving through Epiphany to Transfiguration, we too turn toward the cross. We encounter again this season a God who refuses to stay in the safety of the mountaintop, a God who descends into the valleys of our lives and into our world. Because this is who God is, we are freed to come down from the mountain top, to journey with Jesus like Peter and the disciples into the valleys of the world and toward the cross, to be in solidarity with others in their joys and their sorrows, in their hardships, and to be agents of God’s life-giving and self-emptying love to all the world.
Amen
No comments:
Post a Comment