“The Light and the Shadow”

Transfiguration Sunday

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Today is Transfiguration Sunday. 

It is the day, in the church year, when we read about the disciples’ experience of seeing Christ – if only for a moment -- in the light of his divine glory. 

And a wonderful moment it must have been. There were Peter, James and John, who suddenly caught sight of a vision of their friend standing and conversing with Moses and Elijah, and then heard the voice of God confirming Christ’s identity and authority. “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased.” We can completely understand Peter’s impetuous exclamation – “Lord, it is good for us to be here!”

But even as we read this story about Christ’s glory, it is important for us to ponder the fact that Transfiguration Sunday, each year, is celebrated on the Sunday which immediately precedes the beginning of the season of Lent. That is, the story of the Transfiguration is the last story that we read before we begin that forty day journey that will set us on the pathway to suffering, and will lead us to the foot of the cross.

So how are we supposed to understand this connection between glorious light of Transfiguration Sunday and the difficult shadows of Lent? 

As a way of starting to explore this connection, I would invite us to pay particular attention to some of the details in this story – who is portrayed, where it is set, and how the reactions of each of the characters reveal the message that this story has for us – even today.

The first details that are worth paying attention to are the characters that are named in this text.  The first characters to be mentioned, aside from Jesus himself, are Peter, James and John.  The opening verse of this passage makes it explicitly clear that these three characters did not just accidentally find themselves in this situation; rather, as the text states, it was Jesus who “took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain by themselves.”  Jesus took them.  There was something that he wanted those three characters – Peter, James and John -- to see.

And where did he take those three disciples?   He took them up a mountain.  There is no clear indication as to what mountain – or hill – that Jesus and the three disciples climbed; and the specific location is not particularly important.  Rather, as readers, we are intended to remember that throughout the Bible, mountains are places of special spiritual significance.  It had been on a mountain that Moses spoke with God and received the Ten Commandments; it had been on a mountain that Elijah heard the still, small voice of God.

And, earlier in the Gospel of Matthew, it was on a mountain that Jesus had delivered the Sermon on the Mount.  Both in this Gospel, therefore, and throughout the biblical texts, mountains meant something.  They were places of divine encounter, places of spiritual significance, places of revelation.

And so it was for those three disciples that day.   

As the text states, “he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.” 

Even as they saw their friend in that glorious dazzling light, two more characters appeared. In verse 3, we read, “suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him.” 

It is important to realize that, in this text, Moses and Elijah represent far more than two historic individuals. 

Moses had been the great Lawgiver. It was after Moses’ journey up Mount Sinai, and after his encounter with God, that the people had received the Law, the Torah. 

In this scene, therefore, Moses is the representative of the Law, the Torah.

And Elijah?

Because of Elijah’s role in Israel’s history, the power that he had displayed, and the expectation that he would return just before the coming of the Messiah, Elijah was often viewed as the greatest representative of the Hebrew prophetic tradition. 

In this scene, therefore, the character of Elijah can legitimately be understood as the representative par excellence of the prophets.

Moses and Elijah; the Law and the Prophets. 

When we realize that Moses and Elijah have these representative functions, we begin to realize that the text is making an incredibly powerful statement about Jesus.

That is, the disciples saw Jesus in conversation with Moses and Elijah; they saw him in dialogue with the Law and the Prophets – which were two of the great traditions of the Israelite history and faith; but then, as we read in verse 5, “suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’” 

Though the teachings of Jesus were in line with, and ‘in conversation’ with the teachings of the Law and the witness of the prophets, the divine voice was confirming that it was to Jesus that the disciples were, ultimately, supposed to listen.  “This is my Son, the Beloved, with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”  For the disciples, the Law and the Prophets were meant to be understood ‘in the light’ of Christ.

After falling to the ground in fear, and then being comforted by Jesus, the disciples arose, and began their journey back down the mountain.  As today’s reading ends, we are left with one of those strange passages in which Jesus tells his disciples not to tell anyone what they had seen. “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

Before we leave the scene, however, it is important to realize that this journey down the mountain would not be the last time, in the Gospel account, when these three disciples -- Peter, James and John – would be centered out and taken, by Christ, for a special experience in his presence.

Rather, on the night of his arrest, it would be these three same disciples – Peter, James and John – who would be taken, by Christ, into the deepest parts of the Garden of Gethsemane.  It would be these three same disciples who would see him wrestle with his awareness that a cross lay before him; it would be these three same disciples who would see him sweat blood and plead that the cup might be taken from him; and it would be these three disciples who would fail him, and fall asleep, in his time of greatest anxiety and need.

The meaning of these parallel experiences is significant.  That is, Peter, James and John were chosen, by Christ, not only to see the light of his transfigured glory, but also the deepest shadow of his anguish.  But when the shadows came, the loyalty of the disciples would falter.

So what does all of this have to do with us?  And what might it have to do with the fact that Transfiguration Sunday falls immediately before the beginning of the season of Lent?

While none of us will ever have the exact experience that Peter, James and John had on that particular mountaintop, it is nonetheless interesting to realize that we all will have experiences that are very similar to the experience about which we read in today’s text.

We all have ‘mountaintop experiences’.  We even use speak of ‘mountaintop experiences’ to refer to those special moments, in life, when we seem able to ‘see’ things more clearly.  

Such mountaintop experiences come to us in many different ways.  We have some moving religious or spiritual experience which renews our faith; or we finally accomplish some long – sought goal; or we have one of those moments when, in the very depths of our prayers, we enter into that place of absolute tranquility, of serenity, of peace that passes all understanding; or we have some remarkable epiphany in which the whole universe finally seems to be in harmony.  And when we have one of those experiences, we find ourselves wanting to hold onto the moment, to cherish that feeling, and to savour just how good life can be. 

Like the disciples, we want to stay in those moments.  Lord, it is good to be here.  Peter’s desire was to set up some dwellings on that mountaintop; and we can relate to that desire.  When we have such moments, we share that desire to want to do whatever we can to stay in the moment, and to prolong, protect and preserve the feeling – or, at the very least, to pay enough attention so that we can return to such a feeling as often as possible. 

Such experiences are important for us.  We need such experiences, from time to time; and they should be welcomed, and cherished, and pondered.

But we all know that we don’t get to stay in those moments any more than Peter, James and John got to stay on that mountaintop.  Jesus did not let the disciples set up dwellings on that mountaintop.  God does not promise that life will always be a mountaintop experience.

Rather, there comes a time when we have to come down from the mountaintop and, as the disciples did, make the difficult journey into the presence of suffering. 

Why?  Because even though the disciples’ caught sight of Christ’s glory on that mountaintop, the enormity of who he was and what he had come to do would not be revealed, as he himself said, “until after the Son of Man is raised from the dead”.  Jesus did not come into this world to teach his followers how to stay in some series of ecstatic spiritual mountaintop experiences.

To put it another way, wonderful mountaintop experiences are not the point of the Christian life.  Rather, the ultimate promise of the Gospel is, paradoxically, not found not in the light of the transfiguration, but in the shadow of the cross.

And, just as we all have mountaintop experiences, so too do we all have moments when the shadow of the cross is revealed. 

And when are those moments? 

When life leads us, or some we love, into the place of pain and suffering; when the poor and the innocent are oppressed and victimized; when love is betrayed and abandoned; when the indignities of this world cause people to feel shame; when the crushing weight of human misery threatens to destroy God’s precious gift of life; the shadow of the cross is seen again. 

And when we realize that these three disciples were invited, by Christ, both up the mountain and into Gethsemane – that is, both into the brightest light and into the darkest shadows -- we realize just how completely they failed him. When things were going well, they wanted to preserve the moment; But when their friend was in need, when he was suffering, victimized, betrayed, brutalized and humiliated, the disciples were nowhere to be found.  The same man who, in this text, cried out, “Lord it is good for us to be here” would, so soon, have other words on his lips. “Truly, I do not even know the man.”

And it is for this very reason that Transfiguration Sunday falls immediately before the season of Lent – to remind us that the One whose power was so great that even Moses and Elijah were silenced in his presence was about to willingly give up the glorious light of his divine power in order to submit to the humiliation and pain of death; and to remind us that he did not come for his own glory, but to walk with us, and to lead us, through the valley of the shadow of death. 

And in this journey from the transfiguration to the crucifixion, there is an incredible question that is laid before us.  It is a question that every one of us, at some point in our lives, will need to answer.

What is that question?  It is this.

Will our faith and our loyalty be as true in the presence of suffering as it is in the presence of joy and glory?  Will we be as faithful in the shadow of the cross as we are in the light of the mountaintop?

I will never forget a conversation that I once had with a woman a few years ago.  The woman had a good friend who was suffering from a rapidly advancing degenerative disease.  They had been friends for many years, and it was breaking the woman’s heart to see her friend suffer in such a way.  The two of them had been in a circle of friends who had played cards together, watched their children grow up together, and spent many great times together.  But what was particularly hard for the woman with whom I was speaking, was that her suffering friend had confided that what was hurting her, sometimes as much as the pain of her illness, was the fact that so many of her friends had disappeared as the disease had advanced.  Perhaps they did not know what to say; or perhaps they were afraid of saying the wrong thing; or perhaps they simply did not want to be exposed to that level of suffering.  Whatever the reason, she had been left alone in her time of greatest need.  It is a challenge to remain as faithful in the shadow of suffering as we are in the light of joy.  And, like the disciples, it is a challenge that every one of us, at one point or another, will fail.

But there is One who did not fail.  There is One who faithfully endured, to the end.  There is One who, though betrayed and abandoned, has promised never to leave us or abandon us, even in our times of greatest need. 

Christ gave up the light of his glory so that when we walk through the dark valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil, for he will be with us.

As we break bread and share a cup today, we do so in memory of the One who willingly chose to walk down from the mountain and pick up a cross -- for us and for our salvation. 

Thanks be to God.

Amen.