The more I read and studied Luke’s description of Jesus’ transfiguration on the mountaintop, the more my sermon title became a self-fulfilling prophesy. I titled this homily, “Not Knowing What to Say” because I was struck by the fact that once the disciples witnessed Jesus conversing with Moses and Elijah, and then heard the voice of God say to them “This is my Son; listen to him!”, they fell silent and didn’t talk about this miraculous event. They didn’t know what to say – and in my pastoral pride, I somehow thought I’d be different. I was wrong. When faced with the mystery of God, the glory of this divine-human Jesus the Christ, our response is necessarily a sense of awe and none of us fully know what to say.
So to move this conversation forward, let’s talk about something else for a while, like the weather. The usual dose of hysteria has filled the weather channels recently, as the big nor’easter descended on New England. Cancelled flights, cars banned from roads, 2-3 feet of snow reported in the news. Outside of Boston, snow now covers the area around Walden Pond, where Henry David Thoreau famously spent time alone in the woods. In one essay, Thoreau wrote this: “In winter, warmth stands for all virtue.”1 I like that. When you’re cold, everything virtuous is symbolically captured by the idea of warmth. Now if we are to step gently into Luke’s bible story, we could paraphrase Thoreau and say, in scripture, bright light stands for all divinity.
Think about it. Bright light equals divinity. When creation began, into the unordered chaos God strode and the first thing God said was, “Let there be light.” When Moses met God upon Mt. Sinai and brought down the ten commandments on stone tablets, scripture says that “his face shone because he had been talking with God” (Ex 34:30). And in the gospels, when Jesus was dying on the cross, there was a three-hour period of darkness as the divine light went away for a while, even as the Easter day of resurrection was marked by a literal and figurative “sun rise” of bright light.
But it is just as common in scripture that after a bright light of divinity shines on our mortal world, those who see it fall into silence. Remember how in the Christmas story, the shepherds were watching their sheep by night when the light and glory of the Lord shone around them. They were afraid, terrified into silence until the angels told them the good news they were to share with the world. And even as Mary held her remarkable, newborn child in her arms and the shepherds rattled on about what this all meant, we’re told that she was silent, pondering all these words in her heart.
In scripture, bright light stands for divinity. So when Peter, James and John went with Jesus up the mountain to pray, they saw his appearance change and his clothes became a dazzling white. Jesus’ divine glory became visible. They saw something they intuitively understood but couldn’t articulate in words; so they chose the wiser path and kept silent. Feeling awe and wonder and a healthy dose of fear, they simply pondered these things in their hearts and chose to keep still.
John’s gospel has this famous phrase in it: The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it (Jn 1:5). The light that shone when Jesus was transfigured came during a time of encroaching storms and spiritual darkness. Days before, Jesus had told his disciples these words: The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised. As they looked at him with confusion written deep on their faces, Jesus went even further, saying, If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For what does it profit if you gain the whole world, but lose or forfeit yourself? (Lk 9:22-24)
Sobered by those words, the group then climbed the mountain and were bathed in the heaven-sent light. Jesus was still the same Jesus, but in that bright light of divinity, how he was seen was now different. Suddenly it became clear that the fulfillment of the law of Moses, the Messiah foretold by Elijah and other prophets, was right before them. They fell silent and pondered the light, but as soon as they came back down from the mountain, the shadows returned. They struggled to understand what Jesus meant by telling them he was destined to be betrayed and put to death. They argued among themselves which one of them was the greatest. And the entire group found themselves on the road to Jerusalem – that final path for Jesus that would end in darkness and a lonely cross on a hillside.
Why then the mountaintop experience? Why that time of blinding light? I think it was an act of love, of giving the disciples a glimpse of the divine so that they’d have strength for the road that lay ahead of them. Remember, Jesus wasn’t changed up on that mountain; the only thing that changed was how he was seen. But how he was seen gave the disciples strength for what lie ahead of them. When they were tired in the garden of Gethsemane and couldn’t stay awake, I hope they remembered that they’d been just as tired up on the mountain when Jesus was transfigured, and if they just held on, they’d see a light that no darkness could overcome. When the soldiers came and arrested Jesus, and he was mocked and falsely tried, I hope they remembered that he’d told them this in advance, even as their own fears made them stumble and deny him and hide in the shadows. When he died on the cross and his body was laid in a borrowed tomb, I hope they remembered how he’d described this in detail, and how he’d added on a special word that on the third day he would be raised. Because when that glorious event did come to pass and the light of Easter shone all around them, I hope they recognized in that light some of the same Transfiguration light that had blinded them and earlier struck them dumb. It had been an experience hard to put into words, but it had changed how they’d seen Jesus and everything else from that day on.
That same light shines on us – has shone on us – and it changes how we see everything from now on. I am perhaps too reticent to speak about my own testimony of faith. I would never want to speak as if my experience should be normative for any of you, for Christ is at work in each of your lives to bring you peace and to a deeper level of faith. Yet I would share that when I was a young man studying music overseas, I took part in bible studies and pondered what it meant to speak of God as Creator and God as Holy Spirit still blowing over and inspiring us. When we spoke about Jesus, I could appreciate his wisdom, I could marvel at his healing love, and I could weep at the tragedy of his death. But one afternoon the light dawned on me and it sunk in that this same Jesus was resurrected from the dead – and in that act, how I understood the world was totally changed. The God who raised Christ from the dead could thereby raise us, heal us all, offer a deeper, truer life than any we might know on our own. I can still remember the room I was in when that awareness dawned on me, and how bright the sun shone when I stepped outside to meet a friend. When I did try to talk about this experience, my words weren’t perfect and the sound of them fell far short of the new-found faith I felt within me. But that hasn’t stopped me from remembering that light, remembering that moment, or searching for words to share about this Jesus the risen Christ.
If in winter, warmth can stand for all virtues, then by faith allow light to stand for all things divine. Don’t take light for granted. In its natural forms, let it remind you of God’s unceasing love – generously given as the sun’s rays shine during the day. Providentially given as the light of the full moon chases away the total darkness of winter nights. God in Christ doesn’t want you to grieve as ones without hope, or live as ones who feel they’ve been orphaned and abandoned in a shadowy world. So Jesus provides all of us with a glimpse of light that is bright enough to sustain us through every patch of personal darkness from henceforth.
Where is the literal, divine light of faith in your life today? Is it a candle, like our Paschal candle that the church universal has lit for centuries to announce that Jesus Christ, the Light of the World, is alive? Is it like a light bulb that lets you read, a nightlight that helps you rest in peace, a flashlight that makes you feel safe in times of trouble? Is it the light outside when the sun pushes through the Pittsburgh clouds and we smile remembering that, yes, the sky really is blue and life really is good? Is it the light that comes to you from those you love – a child, a parent, a pet, a colleague, a lover, a trusted friend? Is it a fire of justice whose flame will not go out until all are set free? Is it something you can see when you close your eyes and remember when you first came to believe in the Lordship of Jesus Christ, or something that literally is dawning upon you this very day as you think of God breaking into your world and into your life with such an overwhelming love? Picture that light. See your life illuminated by that light.
Here is what I can say to you this day: Jesus’ transfiguration was not done for himself but for us. Trust that light wherever you’ve glimpsed it. May it strengthen you, sustain you, hearten you and heal you now and always. For such is the nature of the light and love of our Lord Jesus Christ.
AMEN