Psalm 50:1-6
2 Corinthians 4:3-6
Mark 9:2-9
Rule of thumb: when you arrive at a mountain in the Scriptures you know that there will be revelation, you know that God has drawn us there to reveal something of the divine nature or something about the deepest truths of our existence; about our relationship with God, with each other, with creation. At Mt Horeb God reveals God’s own name to Moses (Exodus 3:15), and on Mt Sinai delivers the law and enters into a specific covenant with the children of Israel. (Exodus 20) Again at Horeb, God reveals God’s self to Elijah, not in the power of earthquakes, wind or fire but in the depth of sheer silence. (1 Kings 19:11-12) In the New Testament – as the Gospel of Matthew tells us, Jesus goes up a mountain to deliver the most memorable of his sermons. (Matthew 5) Not unlike Moses, he reveals a new way to live and a new way of understanding the human condition: “Blessed are the poor in spirit; blessed are those who mourn; blessed are the peacemakers.” At the end of the New Testament in the Book of Revelation – the name says it all – St John is taken in a vision onto a high mountain and there is shown to him “the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God.” (Revelation 21:10)
However, the Transfiguration – when the glory of Jesus is revealed to a few of his chosen followers – seems to lack something of the definitive and defining nature of these others. Jesus is transfigured, changed in the presence of Peter, James and John. He appears flanked by Moses and Elijah – thereby referencing other mountop experiences – but the moment passes very quickly; and although a voice from heaven confirms Jesus’ identity as the “Beloved Son”, not only his disciples, but us as well I think, are left wondering – “What just happened.?” “What was that about?” The entire event seems to have about it a sense incompleteness; an event that we are never quite sure what do with. We aren’t alone. Peter, the writer of Mark tells us, doesn’t know what to do or say either, so instead offers to build dwellings or booths for Jesus, Elijah and Moses. The other two are simply terrified.
This sense of incompleteness is not by accident, because the event on this mountain derives its meaning and finds its completion from future events on another mountain altogether – Mt Calvary. Today as we turn away from the Epiphany, and the “season” of revelation, we begin to turn our faces towards Ash Wednesday, Lent and Holy Week. We begin to turn our feet towards the way of the cross – toward Jesus’ glorification on Mt Calvary. What the gospel story presents us with this morning, and what it will present us with in seven weeks on Good Friday is fundamentally the same; it is what St Paul calls in his second letter to the Corinthians “the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” They each inform and are informed by the other. But what a glory! What a revelation! Is it really what his disciples expected or wanted? Is it really what we expect or want?
In each of the times when God has taken his followers unto a mountain, they never get exactly what they expect. Moses on Horeb receives the name of God, but one which is utterly cryptic: “I AM WHO I AM”, and a mission he did not want. With the giving of the law on Mt Sinai the people of Israel do not just enter into a legal contract, but into much more than that. They are called into a relationship, a covenant with a God they cannot see or call my name. Elijah, again on Mt Horeb, learns that God does not act in the powerful forces of nature – earthquakes, winds, fire, as the ancient world belived of their gods – but in the stillness of sheer silence. At the transfiguration on Mt Tabor, Jesus’ followers learn that God’s glory and revelation can neither be captured nor contained – the old booths or dwellings will no longer do. The cross however, will present the greatest dis-connect between expection and reality – the “knowledge of the glory of God” is revealed in the tortured, agonized face of Jesus Christ. What could be more surprisingly disturbing to his followers, both then and even now.
Jesus of course, tries to prepare them – the Gospel writers try to prepare us – for that striking and disturbing revelation on Mt Calvary. In each of the synoptic gospels – Matthew, Mark and Luke – the transfiguration event is preceeded by Jesus telling his followers what lies in store for him and for them in Jerusalem. In the Gospel of Mark, specifically, he tells them how “the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.” (Mark 8:31); Peter takes him aside and rebukes him for even suggesting such a fate. The dis-connect between his expectation of the revelation of God’s glory and its reality is too great for him, so great that he even challenges Jesus. He reflects the feelings and thoughts of the early Christians community to whom the author directed the Gospel of Mark, so the writer invites us to see the glory of the Transfiguration as couched between the crucifixion’s prediction and its coming to pass. As Jesus is revealed on Mt Tabor by the voice from heaven – “This is my Son, the Beloved” (Mark 9:7), so he is revelaed on Mt Calvary by a voice from the earth, namely that of an unknown Roman centurion who on Jesus’s death declares: “Truly, this man was God’s son.” (Mark 15:40) The revelation from heaven, is confirmed by the experience of earth; and the glimpse of glory revealed in the dazzling white of the Transfiguration, is fully revealed in the midst of the darkened skies of the crucifixion. This is so unlike anything which the first century world could countenance or expect, so unlike anything that any system of power can really deal with, that we can understand why the crucifixion was considered a scandal, both to Jews and Gentiles; indeed, even to many believers. For this reason, the gospel writers highlighted its connections to previous revelations of God – those to Moses and Elijah, and proclaim God’s power and glory to be manifested in this so unlikely a place and event.
The revelation of God’s glory has always surprsied and disturbed those to whom it has been revealed. For Christians, if we take our faith seriously, it presents a particular challenge – that the glory of God – the glory of divinity – is most perfectly revealed in a willingness to be emptied of divinity; to lay aside power, even a power which is God’s by right. It is not just about cross, but about the incarnation as a whole – God is revealed in the frailty and dependency of a baby, in one who is tired by journeys and who weeps at the tomb of a friend. This idea was clearly unpleasant and distateful to the earliest Christians; were it not so it would not have figured to prominently in the gospels in order to reinforce it. I think that it is unpleasant, even distasteful to us too. We know what to do with a god who is revealed in glory and light – we can cower in fear and awe, or we build that god a dwelling; but what do we do with a God who reveals the divine glory in the frailty of our own human nature, who in that nature is rejected, and whose only earthly crown is one of thorns?
Today with Jesus and his followers we descend from the glory of Mt Tabor, turn our faces towards Jersualem and on Wednesday we begin our journey to Mt Calvary and to an altogether different revelation of that same glory – a revelation which is to bring us all to say: “Truly this man is God’s son”. Amen
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