Scripture Reading
Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became bright as light. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will set up three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they raised their eyes, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.
As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
~Matthew 17:1-9
Sermon
Have you ever had what you would call a “mountaintop experience?” On a literal mountain or a figurative one…? One that took place within the big-C Church or away from it…? One that lasted days or maybe just minutes…? Something you couldn’t wait to share with someone close to you, or something you kept to yourself, like a secret treasure?
Athletes seem to have a lot of mountaintop experiences—like Eric Liddell, the runner featured in “Chariots of Fire” who said, “I believe that God made me for a purpose. But He also made me fast, and when I run, I feel His pleasure.” Or anyone who trains for a marathon and makes it across the finish line. Or people like Cheryl Strayed, who hiked a thousand miles of the Pacific Northwest Trail and found in it a way to grieve, a place to be in community with other hikers, and who learned that she could, in fact, do something that seemed impossible.
But people who have not run marathons or climbed K-2 or even scrambled up a humble Adirondacks peak can also have mountaintop experiences. When you’ve completed some project, some task into which you poured all your energy, intelligence, imagination and love. When you’ve felt wonderfully close to another person or felt deeply part of a group that was sustaining and uplifting. When you’ve been in a room with 1000 other Presbyterians singing hymns. (Yes, that is one of mine.) When you’ve felt God’s presence, even for a flash of a moment.
We get the term “mountaintop experience” from the bible—remember Isaac’s reprieve at the hand of an angel when his father was about to sacrifice him. Remember Moses ascending Mount Sinai to commune with the terrifying presence of God. And, of course, there’s the passage we’ve only just heard—Jesus plus three disciples, plus two giants of the Hebrew Scriptures, plus the voice of God washing over them. What does this mountaintop experience mean?
Our passage begins, “Six days later.” Six days later than what? Six days after what?
To answer that, we have to go back to chapter 16. When we first meet Jesus there, he’s being grilled by religious leaders who want him to give a sign, the old, “If there’s a God, jump off this building, and see if God’s angels will catch you” trick. Jesus resists—he doesn’t have a lot of patience for those who want him to turn himself into David Copperfield. He scathingly tells them the only sign they’ll see is the sign of Jonah.
What’s the most famous thing Jonah did? That’s correct, after being thrown overboard from a ship, Jonah, the story tells us, was swallowed by a great fish, and was inside the fish’s belly for three days, until the fish spit him up onto dry land. The sign of Jonah is, of course, he had to be dead. But look, three days later, he was alive.
After that encounter, Jesus is in deep, intense conversation with his disciples, his friends. He asks them, Who do people say the Son of Man is? Meaning, Jesus, himself. They give him a number of answers—John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah or one of the prophets. Then he asks, who do you say that I am?
Simon Peter says, “You are the Messiah (Christ), Son of the Living God.” This is a big moment for Peter. Jesus calls him blessed for saying it, he actually hands Peter a promotion—on this rock, I will build my church. Peter is the rock. But Jesus also tells his disciples not to tell anyone about it yet.
Then Jesus tells his friend that he will suffer, and die on a cross, and be raised from the dead in three days. Peter is horrified. He rebukes Jesus, tries to tell him, no, that’s not what should happen. And within minutes of being called “Blessed,” Jesus calls Peter, “Satan,” the Hebrew word for Tempter. Don’t tempt me, he says, I know what I’m called to do.
Now. It is six days later. Jesus takes Peter, John, and James—someone I was reading this week called them Jesus’ “executive committee”—and brings them along on a hike up Mount Tabor, in lower Galilee. When they get to the mountaintop, Jesus is transformed before them. In Bible Study this week I compared it to when Professor Lupin is transformed into a werewolf, in “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,” but of course, I have no idea what it was really like. All we know from our text is that it was sudden. Where before there was the old familiar Jesus—dusty feet and robe, a little sweaty from the 4,500-foot climb—now they see Jesus in glory. Jesus, shining as if he were lit from within. Jesus, whose “face shone like the sun, and whose clothes were bright as light,” almost hard to look at.
Then, just as quickly, they see that Jesus is not alone; he has two individuals with him, and the disciples know, immediately, who they are. Moses, the bringer of the law, the one who led the people from enslavement to freedom; Elijah, the great prophet who took on the most corrupt monarchs in the Hebrew Scriptures. Giants of the Hebrew Scriptures, symbols of the entire tradition of God’s covenant people Israel.
I feel for Simon Peter. It is not always easy to remain in the present when something amazing happens. We want to capture our mountaintop experience in a snapshot, we want to freeze frame the whole thing and make it last. Peter’s version of pulling out his iPhone is his offer to make three tents or booths, one each for the transfigured Jesus and the Old Testament giants, so they can all Stay. Right. Here. If he’d only stuck with his first sentence—Lord, it is good to be here—and followed with awed silence. If only he’d let himself and the others bask in the wonder. But things are happening fast now. Jesus doesn’t have a chance to answer Peter, because a cloud descends upon the mountain—the cloud of God, Godself—and God speaks:
“This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
If that statement sounds familiar, that’s because the first part repeats the words God said as Jesus came up, spluttering and shaking off the waters of the Jordan at his baptism. This is my Son, God said, the Beloved, in whom I am well pleased.
It’s the last part that’s new, following on the heels of chapter 16. “Listen to him.”
Listen to Jesus. When he says, he is the Messiah, God’s anointed one, Listen to him.
Listen to Jesus. When he says, keep that news to yourself for now, listen to him.
Listen to Jesus. When he says, I’m walking the path to the cross—don’t tempt me away from what I know I am called to do—Listen to him.
And now, when Jesus appears to you in otherworldly glory—resurrection glory—listen to him.
Some scholars believe this moment is a resurrection story transplanted into the middle of Matthew’s gospel. They all agree that this is a revelation to Jesus’ inner circle of what resurrection will look like. In chapter 16, those who were challenging Jesus demanded a sign. Jesus give that sign to his executive committee, his nearest and dearest in this ministry. This vision is meant to shore up Jesus’ disciples, to let them know he has not lost his mind or lost the thread, but that God really is the one in charge of his mission and ministry.
All this is too much for the disciples. They are overwhelmed. When the cloud descends and the voice pours over them from the cloud, they throw themselves face down on the ground. They are terrified, and that stands to reason. This is unlike anything they’ve seen, and they’ve seen a good bit of healing, casting out demons, and miraculously feeding crowds by now. But this is beyond—beyond their prior experience, beyond this world. There they are, face down. This is a little like the children’s game of peek-a-boo, that developmental stage when little children think, if they can’t see you, you can’t see them. The disciples are hiding.
But then, Jesus comes to touch them. Rev. Michelle Wahila, Carol and Jack Smith’s daughter, led worship for us at our presbytery meeting last week, and I so loved what she said that I asked her permission to share it with you. She said,
In being confronted with the glory of God, Peter, James and John fell to the ground, faces downward. They tried to hide their faces from Jesus. They tried to hide themselves from God.
And yet, there were on a mountain, in God’s very presence. The “beloved” was there, next to them.
The presence and power of God contrasted with a very simple human reality – touch.
“But Jesus came and touched them.” There was no need to hide, the same Jesus the disciples knew was there with them.
The same Jesus who was there with them, is here with us. Immanuel, God with us. God is here and present and with you, beloved… Get up and don’t be afraid.
For the past seven weeks the church’s worship has been dedicated to the ways in which Jesus shows himself to us, in which Jesus invites us into his ministry of love, justice, and peace. Appropriately enough, the transfiguration on the mountaintop is the high point of that season, the summit, as we see Jesus as he will be and is in resurrection glory, a foretaste of the realm of God. And we see too, the other side of the incarnation—Jesus as a man who will go to the cross, a man who can touch and reassure his frightened friends.
And this Sunday is the fulcrum on which the church’s seasons turn. The last Sunday in Epiphany season, just three days until Lent is with us. The journey to the cross, the journey Jesus began in chapter 16.
Michelle continues,
This year, can you anticipate being touched by the divine, in a way so real and so powerful, that you are brought more fully into the wholeness of resurrection life?
What if we came into the season of Lent expecting that kind of wonder and amazement?
What if, indeed. What if Lent were to be, for us, a season of awe? Of wonder? Of amazement? What if we entered Lent expecting a mountaintop experience? What if we entered into Lent expecting Jesus to continue to show us, day by day, his glory, and day by day, that we, too, are beloved?
What if the mountaintop were within reach? Perhaps for a moment, or a flash of a moment—but within reach, nevertheless? What if Lent were for us, a season of awe?
Thanks be to God. Amen.