We are blessed to live in a land
surrounded by mountains. Indeed,
words don’t so justice to the spectacle and majesty of the peaks which overlook
this beautiful land. Few views
rival those captured from the top
of Golden Ears Mountain, Whistler, and any of our local ski hills.
A
viewing from these magnificent heights are an awe inspiring, and some would
say, spiritual experience.
It
is therefore no surprise that important events in the biblical narrative took
place on mountain tops.
Moses, the great liberator of the Israelites had two direct encounters of God on Mount
Sinai. The first was to receive his mission to deliver God’s people from the
chains of bondage in Egypt. Here he removed his shoes befoee the burning bush
as he heard the voice of God speak to him directly. The Second was another spectacular encounter with God, we read about
today, during which time he received the tables of the law—the Ten
Commandments.
The
great prophet Elijah had his own encounter with God upon the mountaintop. His
came on Mount Horeb It was not spectacular. God didn’t come to him in a storm.
Rather, God came to Him in the still, quiet, voice. The still quiet voice
commissioned him to appoint new, faithful, kings in Israel and Assyria, and a
prophetic successor, Elisha, to bring restoration and true faithfulness to
Israel.
God’s
greatest Lawgiver, Moses, and His Greatest Prophet, Elijah, had their most
intimate encounter with God on mountains, were directly encountered by the
divine, experienced what are called “theophanies”.
Jesus,
God’s only begotten Son, would also have his own mountain-top experience. But
there would be a difference. Jesus would not be alone during this direct divine
encounter. His disciples, Peter, James and John, would be present to witness
the divine manifestation.
The
text doesn’t tell us, specifically, on which mountain the events we read today
took place. Scholars agree that it was most likely Mount Herman, overlooking
the Jordan Valley. And it is unlikely that the transfiguration took place at
the very peak of the mountain. It was most likely on the slope. But regardless
of the specific geography, we know that this event took place at a key point in
the ministry of Jesus. He had
revealed the kingdom of God through his teachings and through his healings. His
enemies, the Pharisees, had identified Jesus as a blasphemer, and were
determined that he must die, Jesus had appointed Peter as the rock upon whom he
will build his church, and Jesus had foretold his own death and resurrection.
Jesus had
made his destiny clear to his disciples, and now His heavenly Father will
identify Jesus to his disciples.
This isn’t
the first time God the Father declared Jesus as his beloved Son before
people—the first time God’s voice thundered from heaven. It happened during the
baptism of Jesus. And here it happened again.
In the
transfiguration, Jesus is set alongside Moses and Elijah, those great men. He
is set alongside them, and then elevated above them. He, above all others, even
Moses and Elijah, is to be listened to!
In this
moment there can be no doubt, no question about who Jesus is, for he has been
glorified by his heavenly Father.
Peter’s
response to this glorification is a naturally human one. It is to create a
dwelling place for each of the three. It is to retain and maintain that moment
of glory on the mountaintop.
A couple of
weeks ago many people in Vancouver partook in gatherings to celebrate the first
anniversary of the Winter Olympics, the much celebrated and heralded event.
That celebration was motivated, in part, by a longing, a longing to return to
those fourteen days of glory, a desire that perhaps the clock could be turned
back. Perhaps a year ago, after the spectacular men’s hockey victory against
the Untied States many wished that time could stand still. There are many
moments in life like that aren’t there? Both collectively and individually,
there are “peak mountaintop moments” that we wish could be preserved, that we
wish would have a permanent dwelling place, and not just in images captured in
photographs.
So just
imagine how Peter, that humble fisherman felt on that day, when those two great
figures appeared alongside Jesus, who shone forth in all his divine glory. He
would naturally want to preserve that moment when Jesus, his Lord, his friend,
stood between these two pillars of Israel’s religious history and achievement.
He would want that remarkable moment to last, when Jesus shone in all his
glory, the moment when everything made sense. So he wanted to make a dwelling place for the three:
the greatest bringer of the Law,
the greatest prophet, and God’s
only begotten Son.
But this
moment will not be preserved, it will not last, it will come to an end.
The
thundering of God’s voice terrifies Peter and the other disciples, who fall to
the ground.
Jesus,
standing alone, tells them, “ Do not be afraid.” He is no longer shining in
glorious white. Moses and Elijah are gone. The spectacular voice of the Heavenly
Father thundered, but now is silent.
What was
going through Peter’s head then? What was he thinking? It may have seemed to
him just moments before that all had been fulfilled, Jesus was glorified, that the journey had ended, and the
story had reached its joyful conclusion with the glorious proclamation and
exhaltation of Jesus—with glorious victory.
This
transfiguration was a glorious moment to be sure. But it was not the ultimate
moment of glory. Christ’s greatest moment of glory came not on the mountain
side of Mount Horeb when he was arrayed in dazzling white. Christ’s greatest
moment of glory came upon a lesser mountain, a hill, in fact. It
was called Golgitha, where he was crucified. Christ’s greatest moment of glory would be when he was hung up on
the cross. There he wasn’t flanked by Moses and Elijah. There two criminals
would be on his right and on his left.
At
the time of the transfiguration Peter or James or John would not possibly have
believed that. Yes, Jesus had told them what would happen, but did they truly
believe it in their hearts? The scriptural evidence would say “no”. It is even
very difficult for us to believe that God’s greatest moment of triumph would
come through his moment of
greatest suffering— hard even for us who know how the story turned out, even in
light of the resurrection. But on their way down from the mountain Jesus tells
Peter, James, and John, tells them the truth about what is going to happen:
‘The Son of Man is about to suffer at their hands.” At the hands of the world,
God himself will suffer death by
the world for the world.
Part
of us naturally wishes that the story would have ended up on that mountain
during the transfiguration. It is natural to not want the cross to be part of
the story. It is natural not to want the brutal climax of our Lord hanging on
the cross. If only Herod and Pilate could have been up there on that mountain,
too. If only the brutal and merciless mob who shouted “crucify him”, could have
seen Jesus in dazzling white. If only those mocking roman soldiers got a
glimpse, just a glimpse of that. If only they heard God’s voice thunder then.
But on that day we remember on Good Friday, God’s voice didn’t thunder. God the
father remained silent as his Son died.
But even as
Christ was glorified on that mountain, the two great fugures who stood next to
him told him what his ultimately glorious destiny would be. Matthew doesn’t give us the details of
the discussion. But Luke does. Luke tells us that the Law giver and the prophet
spoke to Jesus of “the decease he
was to accomplish in Jerusalem.”
The word “decease” is a
Greek term , when translated to Hebrew means,
“ Exodus”. Jesus was to do for all
of humanity what Moses did for the Hebrew slaves—effect a great deliverance
from bondage. But that deliverance had to come through the cross on Golgitha.
Today
we celebrate transfiguration Sunday, the day which Christ was glorified upon
that mountain. We celebrate that with white paraments. We celebrate the
radiance of Christ. It is no coincidence, however, that this celebration comes
on the last Sunday before the season of Lent, the season of journeying,
journeying to that day of ultimate deliverance. Part of us would like not to move into Lent—Lent with its
heavy contemplation. Wouldn’t it be nice just to skip to Easter just skip on
over to Easter? But it doesn’t work that way. We still have a
some winter to move through before spring arrives. There can be no
Easter without Good Friday. There can be no resurrection without the cross. God
must die, before God can give the
gift of ultimate life.
But
it is so tempting to want to by-pass the cross, to leave it out of the
picture—to proclaim glory in strength as we understand it. It is tempting to preach
a health and wealth gospel, to preach that if you just pray hard enough
everything will turn out alright, to preach that the rewards of faith are
material riches. It would have
been very tempting indeed for Peter and the disciples to come down from the
mountain and tell everyone what they had seen, to speak of Christ’s glorious
manifestation alongside the two great pillars of Israel.
But notice
that Jesus tells them. He tells them not to do that. He tells them to keep
their mouths closed on this one. There can be no discussion of Christ’s
glorification until he has accomplished all he had come to do. Then, and only then, will the transfiguration stand as testimony to
Christ’s glory.
This
Wednesday, the church moves from
the season of Epiphany into the season of Lent, moves from the season in which
the lessons describe those great moments of Jesus’ identification as he Christ,
the anointed one, the deliverer, the Saviour, to lessons which call us to
contemplate the way of Jesus, way of self-denial, the way of the
cross. Lent isn’t a happy clappy season.
It is a season where
halleluiah isn’t said. But it
isn’t a down and depressing season either. It is a season which invites us to
more deeply consider what it means
to live in the ultimate reality of resurrection, even as death remains a
reality. Lent invites us to a deeper contemplation of the cross, of its
paradox. Lent invites us to think
about the dark places, but always
with the lamp of God’s light shining before us.
The
disciples had a glorious mountain top experience with Jesus, and we are sure to
have ours. But always remember what lay before Jesus and before them when they
came down from that mountain. But they would not move forward in the absence of
light. They would not move into darkness without transfiguration brilliance
etched in their memories, brilliant radiant light which shone hope into their
hearts. Their hope would be fulfilled on Easter, the day which fuels our hope.
So let us live in that Easter light even as we journey this day and beyond. Now, may the peace
which surpasses all understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ
Jesus—Amen.
