Transfigured-See the Glory
Matthew 17:1-9
March 2, 2014[1]
As we read today’s
Gospel Lesson, were you able to put yourself into the middle of the story. Were you able to use your imagination to
observe the sights and sounds of Galilee as you climb the trail with Jesus? What captured your attention? Could you put yourself into the shoes of
Peter, or James, or John as you listened for the Word of the Lord?
Today is
Transfiguration Sunday. We mark the
transition from the season of “Ordinary Time” following Epiphany into the
Season of Lent. As we mark this
transition, we remind ourselves that our focus is centered on the Living
Christ.
Today, we remember once
again this unusual story of Jesus’ unusual summit meeting with Moses and
Elijah. Three of the disciples—Peter,
James and John—were witness to the glory of the Lord. They could see the glory!
Are you able to
visualize yourself in the middle of this story?
Think of yourself as one of these three disciples. Can you see Jesus approach you early one
morning and quietly ask you to come with him?
Maybe you exchange
questioning glances with the other two disciples whom Jesus also invited for
this outing. Do you ask them without
words whether they know what was going on?
Do you see them shrug their shoulders as if to say that they didn’t have
a clue?
Do you huff and puff a
little bit as the four of you walk up the mountain trail, perspiring in the
morning sun?
Do you gasp just a
little bit as you rounded the top of the mountain and see the vista before
you—the mountainous terrain, and the valley below kissing the shoreline of the
Sea of Galilee? As you reach the summit,
can you feel a bit of the breeze bring some relief from the heat of the sun?
Perhaps Jesus asks you
and the others to wait and pray, while he slowly walks just a bit further up
the trail.
Then Jesus begins to
pray. Can you hear him? I wonder how He
begins His prayers? On that day, does he
begin his prayer with the familiar words, “Abba,” our “Father in
heaven”—something that we would more likely translate today as “Daddy?” Or does he begin by chanting the prayer
spoken by all devout Jews from the time of Moses:
Sh'ma
Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.
Hear,
Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.
Perhaps you join your
friends in the words of the response, spoken ever so softly:
Barukh sheim k'vod
malkhuto l'olam va'ed.
Blessed be the Name of His glorious kingdom for ever and
ever.
At some point, while
Jesus is praying, do you notice something unusual taking place? Can you see the face of Jesus becoming
brighter and brighter? Can you see his
robe grow ever more brilliant, as though the desert sun were blazing in the
middle of the afternoon?
Can you see, as you
squint your eyes to protect them from the brilliant light, can you make out two
additional figures speaking with Jesus—figures that you have never seen before
but somehow know that they are among the most treasured names in Jewish
history: Moses and Elijah. How do you react when you are privileged to
witness such a holy sight?
Maybe you are the one to
suggest that we try to capture the experience to hold on to it, to remember it,
to treasure it. Are you the one to say
“let’s build three monuments—one for Jesus, one for Moses and one for Elijah?
It seems like a good idea at the time.
How do you feel when your well-intentioned idea is ignored or
rejected?
Now, can you hear the “Voice”? Not the television show; but a Voice different
than you have ever heard before, with no visible speaker or point of origin—a
voice that seems to thunder from above saying “This is my Son, the Beloved;
with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
How do you react? Are you frightened? Terrified?
Scared speechless? What is the
appropriate response when you hear the voice of God? Can you feel yourself trembling, falling to
the ground, literally quaking in fear?
Every devout Jew knows that no one can look upon the face of God and
live to tell the tale.
And then can you hear
the words of Jesus, inviting you to get up, perhaps offering you his hand—a
hand that has not yet been scared by the nails to come, assuring you that
everything is all right, telling you “Do not be afraid”? You slowly lift your head, open your eyes,
and strangely enough, everything is back to normal. Or is it?
You look around, searching for the two unusual visitors, but you only
see Jesus, himself, alone.
Jesus then compounds the
mystery. You have just seen one of the
most amazing sights ever, but Jesus tells you to keep this one to
yourself—until the “Son of Man”—what a curious phrase Jesus uses to refer to
himself—until the “Son of Man” rises from the dead!
It is hard for me to
comprehend or imagine what that scene was like.
Most of us never have the opportunity in our lifetime to see such a
site. Yet each of us, even in the most
ordinary moments of our lives, has countless opportunities to witness the glory
of the Lord. How is the glory of the
Lord revealed in your life? How does your
life reveal the glory of the Lord? In
what ways does our Lord call you to reflect His glory to others?
This story reminds,
first and foremost, that our faith journey is not about us, it is about God—the
God who spoke to humankind through the prophets, and then took on human flesh
and walked among us.
This story is a mystery
to me—a mystery reminding me that, whenever I think I understand God—that I
have God figured out—whenever I reduce God to a simplistic formula, I have fallen
way short of comprehending the divine mystery.
There is a curious
phrase that has jumped out at me in re-reading this story—the phrase in verse
8, which says, “When they looked up, they saw no one
except Jesus.” The NRSV puts it this
way, “And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself
alone.” Maybe these words were intended
to be merely informational. Moses and
Elijah were gone.
Maybe these words were intended to convey a sense of
relief—they did not have to worry about facing the holiness of God. The light was gone; the voice was
silent. No signs of Moses or Elijah
remained.
Maybe these words were intended to signify an emotional
letdown. They only saw Jesus.
But for me, those words signify undivided attention. They saw Jesus, only! Jesus filled their field of vision, He
commanded their undivided attention. The
disciples’ heart, soul, mind and strength were focused solely on the One who
had invited them to climb the mountain that day. The same One who, just six days before, had
asked them who people were saying that He was.
The responses varied—some said that He was Elijah; others said that He
was John the Baptist returned somehow from the dead; still others said that He
was one of the prophets.
But Jesus then called the question. “Who do you say that I
am?”
Peter, the fisherman who always seems to have an
explanation, a response for everything, Peter proclaims, “You are the Messiah,
the Son of the living God.”
Even as Peter says those words, I don’t think he understands
what he is saying. In Peter’s day,
devoted Jews looked for an earthly Messiah who would set them free from the
iron hand of Rome. A Messiah who would
reestablish Israel as God’s kingdom on earth.
Jesus spoke a lot about the Kingdom of God, all right, but it wasn’t the
sort of kingdom that they were expecting, and He wasn’t the sort of King that
they were expecting.
He was the sort of King that would offer up His own life and
would be killed, but only to rise again.
Peter would hear nothing about this, but Jesus stopped him in his
tracks. Jesus told Peter, and He told
all of His disciples, that if they wanted to be a part of His Kingdom, they had
better be prepared to pick up their own cross, as well, and follow Him up that
road to the Golgotha.
In this latest experience on the mountaintop, God Himself
seems to have added His own exclamation point to what Jesus proclaims about
Himself. Who does God say that Jesus
is?
“This is my Son, the Beloved; with Him I am well
pleased. Listen to Him!”
So when the disciples open their eyes, they see only
Jesus.
As we prepare to begin this journey we call Lent, can we
prepare ourselves to see only Jesus?
The Madness of March will demand our attention. But in the middle of the madness, can we see
only Jesus?
The incessant beat of politics and issues both domestic and
international will clamor for our attention.
But even in the midst of international instability, can we focus only on
Jesus?
Plans for our spring break, plans for visiting family and
friends will try to take over our attention.
But can we set those plans aside for a moment and focus only on Jesus?
Issues of life, health, relationships may arise during this
season of Lent—issues that threaten us, that would try to divert us. We may have to attend to some of these
issues, whether we like it or not. But
in the middle of the clamor, can we keep our spiritual eyes turned only to
Jesus?
If we can, our hope for the coming day of Resurrection, is
that we, too, will be able to see His glory.
Turn your eyes upon
Jesus,
look full in his
wonderful face,
and the things of earth
will grow strangely dim
in the light of His glory and grace.[2]
May it be
so!
Copyright © 2014 by Thomas E. Frost. All rights reserved.
[1] Preached at Cunningham
United Methodist Church in Palmyra, Virginia.
[2] Helen H. Lemmel, “Turn Your
Eyes Upon Jesus,” © 1922, renewed 1950 Singspiration Music. Reprinted in The United Methodist Hymnal (Nashville, TN: The United Methodist Publishing House, 1989),
349.
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