Matthew 17:1-9
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 dazzling white. 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 make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, 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!”
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 looked up, 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.”
This Transfiguration Gospel isn’t always my favorite text to preach. I always wonder how it plays and I worry about what questions it raises among cynics and skeptics, with all of its dazzling clothes, shining faces, Old Testament ghosts, and talking clouds. I worry about that because I’ve asked some of those questions, myself many times. What I mean is, it’s weird and hard to believe, and I get that.
But the gist of what happened on that mountain top wasn’t just a magic show. Matthew’s Gospel is very dramatically putting Jesus into his rightful place among the great prophets of God – right up there with superstars like Moses and Elijah. And his disciples, just like the rest of us, are meant to make note of that, to take it to heart, and to wonder about what it might mean for the big picture of God’s plan for the world.
See when Jesus says, “until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead,” they – and we – are supposed to wonder about what awaits him as they make their way down the hill; as he so faithfully chooses to leave that mountain top and head, so obediently, toward Jerusalem and toward the cross and toward his own undoing on Calvary’s cross.
Because what was next for Jesus – and for us – is even more unbelievable than what happened on that mountain. What was going to happen was that Jesus would be crucified. Jesus was about to share a meal with his friends; he would be arrested; he would be denied and betrayed by the closest of his followers and then he would die the worst kind of death on top of it all – whipped, beaten, mocked, spit upon, crowned with thorns and nailed to a cross – before being raised from the dead.
Because Jesus was showing, I believe, that it is in all of this struggle and sacrifice that real transfiguration, true transformation and meaningful change happens. It’s on all of this that our faith is to rest. Not just on mysticism and myth. Not just on miracles and magic. But on real life, down and dirty relationships between God and people and between people and each other.
That’s what, I hope, our discipleship is all about – reminding each other and reminding the world that God isn’t just up in the clouds or hanging around in the mountaintop experiences of our lives. In Jesus, God has been and is down here with us, in the middle of our suffering and struggle. And God invites us to do that for and with others, in their struggle, just the same.
Because transfiguration, transformation, and change, aren’t just for Jesus. Those disciples were meant to be transfigured, too. And all of this came to life in a new, meaningful way for me this week in Fondwa, Haiti. I saw this passage in some really down-to-earth ways that checked my cynical, skepticism about it all, when I paid attention to what we experienced with our friends in Fondwa.
With this Gospel spinning around in my brain all week, this is how I heard it, anew, for a change:
Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter, James and his brother John…
… and Ben and Lily, Dave and Linda, Pastor Mark and Haley, too … and he led them up a high mountain by themselves.
And he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun and his clothes became dazzling white. … but Jesus became darker, too. Very literally black and brown, I mean.
He looked a little like Luckner, our guide and translator – who had so many answers and so much patience for us along the way.
And Jesus looked like Sister Claudette, a kind, and quiet and humble sort of servant; and he laughed like Stearline and he prayed like Jesula.
He was wise like Sine, too, and as strong as Ji-ber.
And suddenly, there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, speaking with Jesus … so that a lot of things made sense for them in a new way. With Jesus in the company of those ancient prophets and servants of God, suddenly all of his talk about ‘release for the captives, freedom for the oppressed, and the year of the Lord’s favor’ were more meaningful than they had been before. And that stuff about being “salt of the earth” and “light for the nations” and about how the meek would inherit the earth, about those who mourn would be comforted, and how the last would be first and the first would be last held new meaning, too.
Peter said, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will make three dwelling places, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.”
Jamalyn said, “it is SO good for us be here. I think we should build 40 houses in three years, just for starters. One for the Dorelian family:
and for Victor’s wife, who doesn’t know exactly how old she is:
and for Eddie and for Eliane and for Elise, and for the Sylvera family, too.
Haitians will do most of the work, we’ll help where we can, and we’ll have support from places and people as far away as New Palestine, Indiana.”
While (s)he was still speaking (because those of you who know Jamalyn know she is very often “still speaking”) suddenly a great cloud overshadowed them … and they were overcome regularly by the beauty that surrounded them.
All those mountains and valleys; the hills and high places; and the stories they tell of the highs and lows – the struggles and celebrations – of the people who live and move and breathe in those mountains with such courage and grace and faith and hope and love.
…and a voice came [from heaven] saying, “This is my Son, the beloved, with him I am well-pleased. Listen to him.” When they heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome with fear. But Jesus came and touched them and said, “Get up and do not be afraid.” … and they were reminded over and over and over again, by those they would meet – in homes:
…at building sites:
…on the playground they built at the school:
…and in worship, of course, that it was God doing this work; that God was answering the prayers of the people; that God was and is alive and well in their own lives, in Fondwa, and for the sake of the world.
When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus, himself, alone. And as they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them [to tell no one about what they had seen] until the Son of Man had been raised from the dead.
The disciples didn’t catch it because they couldn’t know what we know. But, in spite of what was to come for Jesus – his crucifixion, his death, and his burial – there might have been a hint of a smile on his lips and a wink in his eye, because he hoped for what we know is true: that the Son of Man has, indeed, been raised from the dead.
So they were invited to be transfigured … transformed … changed … themselves. And not to be afraid in the same ways they once were or that we are tempted to be afraid, so much of the time.
And they were allowed to leave the mountain with a different kind of command – to tell anyone with ears to hear about all the things they had seen and heard and shared and received – by God’s grace and with gratitude to their friends in Fondwa…
…the stuff of grace and generosity and gratitude, I mean, for blessings too numerous to count – and that must be shared – in order to change the world with the love of Jesus, as he intends.
Amen
