11 February 2024 Transfiguration Sunday
2 Kings 2:1-12; Psalm 50:1-6; 2 Corinthians 4:3-12; Mark 9:2-9.
Today, our scriptures invite is to sail into the mystic. All the great religions of the world emerged out of encounters with a God that radically changed the lives of those who encountered the Holy. They were transfigured, and their experiences gave birth to the faith traditions that are celebrated today. Transfiguration comes in many ways, both dramatic and gradual, and this begs the question, “What is a transfigured life?’ Today’s readings are about glory and transformation. They invite us to see our worlds and ourselves as transfigured, “thin” and translucent to the Divine.
And the transfiguration of Jesus occurs in just such a ‘thin place’. Mountaintops are often seen as places of revelation, they are, literally and figuratively, ‘closer to heaven’. Jesus invites three of his followers to see him ‘in reality’, the reality that was disguised by flesh and blood. On this mountaintop, divine light shines through his cells as well as his soul. We do not often ‘see’ the inner light in our friends, our fellow travellers, or even ourselves. But this story of Jesus’ transfiguration invites us to look for ‘more’ in both ourselves and others; the entire planet, the whole earth, is filled with God’s glory, and charged with ‘God’s grandeur’.
The disciples want to stay and enjoy this mountaintop delight, rather than return to the discord and ‘hum drum’ reality of life in the valley. We often prefer to stay with our ‘highpoints’. We like to ‘savour’ those ‘God moments’ that we have where our vision of the world is dimmed by the ecstasy of a ‘mystical moment’. We would like to experience God without all the complications of lives devoted to the realities of our earthly existence. But it is only in a full life that we can move from contemplation to action, from mysticism to dirty hands in bringing heaven to earth. This interplay of mysticism and social transformation can be seen in the lives of Gandhi, Romero, and others; we must move from prayer to protest, from meditation to movement.
We hear familiar words spoken by the voice in the cloud in this mountaintop experience. In his baptism the voice told Jesus you are my Son, the Beloved; here the voice speaks to the three onlookers this is my Son, the Beloved. Then comes the kicker ‘listen to him’. Because visions are not just visual spectacles, they are pictures that move us to action.
‘how good it is to be here’. Indeed. And how good it is that this Sunday is where it is, the week before we commence Lent; that period of preparation for Good Friday and Easter. This mountaintop experience points to Jesus’ divinity; but in order to see where and when God’s epiphanies impinge on our present – we need Lent, and Good Friday, and Easter.
And the thing about Transfiguration Day stories is, they are not happy stories. Elijah ascending into heaven in a whirlwind; Jesus illuminating on the mountaintop; they may be miraculous and light-filled, but there is also confusion, loss, and sorrow because in each of them we find a threshold. A boundary marker which signifies a beginning and an end. And as most of us would agree, thresholds are not easily crossed without at least some hesitation. Sometimes we run over them, glancing back with uncertainty or nostalgia. Sometimes we refuse to cross them. But these stories tell us that thresholds are absolutely imperative to a life of faith. Crossing over is what keeps our faith dynamic. Without thresholds, without movement, we will cease to live.
Elisha has been Elijah’s ‘shadow’ for a good seven or eight years, he has followed him everywhere trying to learn all he could from his master. Their bond is so strong that, as the time approaches for their parting, the community of prophets try desperately to help Elisha say goodbye. Elijah tries to tell Elisha he ‘needs to take this next step alone’, but Elisha will have nothing of it and insists on following him. He is reacting as we probably would if we were standing on the threshold of – vocation, identity, relationship. Everything he has known is about to change and he is filled with pain and bewilderment. He questions if he can trust his calling, if he can learn to hear the voice of God on his own, if he can become a leader instead of a follower.
We too face similar questions – how can we learn to do things differently when we are so used to ‘how it has been’. In this story – as in our lives – the thresholds that God appoints cannot be avoided. Elisha saw glory, but he also saw a point of no return, and his response was not joy or certainty, he tore his clothes and grieved. Elisha is uncertain if the ‘double portion’ has rested on him, but he chooses to stand, shoulder his grief, take up his teacher’s mantle, and cross the threshold into a new and unfamiliar life. This decision is neither easy nor inevitable, but it bears witness to the faith epiphanies can have in us when we make the difficult choice to cross that threshold. A battered faith, a trembling faith, a scorched faith, the faith that yields abundant life.
The three disciples in our story have followed Jesus for years, they would probably have said, if asked, that they ‘knew’ him. Knew his face, his mannerisms, his mission, but today, on the top of this mountain the unthinkable happens. Before their very eyes Jesus changes, becoming both fully himself and fully unrecognisable. And suddenly, like Elisha, these stunned disciples find themselves standing on a threshold. The man they thought they knew is suddenly more, suddenly Other. And the path he has told them he is walking – toward Jerusalem and death – is suddenly far grimmer than they could have imagined, and they are facing a decision. They have journeyed with Jesus the minister, the rabbi, the healer; will they now continue and journey with him to the cross. Or will they, as Peter briefly suggests, remain there on the mountain where they are safe and secure.
Today we have come to the end of our current liturgical season. We have seen the light of Epiphany, now we prepare for the long shadow of Lent. Our next thresholds are unknown. Where and how God will call us to change, to grow, to cross over, is unknown. And what losses and sufferings these crossings will involve are also unknown. But, as our stories today attest, we can trust in the One who invites us to cross over. We can trust that resurrection awaits us on the other side.