2 Peter 1.16-end
Matthew 17.1-9
As we stand at the threshold of Lent, we read again the account of the transfiguration of Christ ‘on a high mountain’ in the presence of the disciples Peter, James and John. The gospel writers Matthew, Mark and Luke pack so much into their brief accounts. They are trying to put into words an extraordinary event that they themselves did not witness. Jesus’ face, writes Matthew, “shone like the sun and his clothes became dazzling white.” Jesus appears with Moses and Elijah. Moses first received the law on Mount Horeb and his face reflected the divine glory so brilliantly that he had to be veiled. Elijah is the great prophet who also encountered God on Mount Horeb, not in wind, earthquake or fire, but in a gentle whisper. At the transfiguration, Moses represents the Jewish law and Elijah the Jewish prophets. These two strands of God’s dealings with Israel are fulfilled in Jesus Christ. Here we have a new encounter with God himself, now incarnate in Jesus Christ.
We read the story of the transfiguration as we stand at the threshold of Lent because we are going to see that the glory of God revealed in Jesus Christ belongs not only on the mountain of the transfiguration, but also on the hill outside Jerusalem upon which he was crucified. What is revealed in both is the beauty, truth and goodness of God, who is love.
There is a central theme in the story of the transfiguration that I’d like to reflect on this morning: glory. This theme is made particularly clear in our first reading from St. Peter’s second letter. Unlike the gospel writers, Peter did witness the transfiguration. He writes, “For he [Jesus] received honour and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, “This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain.” So what is this ‘glory’ that we sing about and proclaim every day in our prayer and worship, and what does it mean for us? I’ll give a hint about what I’d like to point us towards: the story of the transfiguration is about divine hospitality, about God welcoming us into his glorious presence, and it’s also about the transfiguration of our humanity – about God’s glory reflected in our lives. God does not withhold his glory; he shares his glory. But let’s start with the meaning of the word ‘glory’ in the Bible. Here goes.
The Hebrew and Greek words that we translate as ‘glory’ appear over 600 times in the scriptures, from the psalmist singing ‘the heavens declare the glory of God’ to the angels singing before the shepherds at the birth of Jesus ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven’. The Hebrew word in the Old Testament that we translate as ‘glory’ means something like ‘weight’ or ‘abundance’ or ‘honour’. It’s the weight of the presence of someone or the weight of their honour. The glory of God in the Old Testament is the ‘weight’ of God’s presence in creation or in the worship of the Temple in Jerusalem. In the New Testament, God’s glory is also expressed in terms of splendour or radiance or light. The very glory of God is seen in Jesus Christ. We read this at the beginning of John’s gospel: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.”
When we hear the story of the transfiguration, it’s perhaps easy to think of it as the human mask falling from Jesus to reveal his true divine identity and the radiant glory of God. It’s critical we do not read it that way. In fact, the earliest Christians were clear that Jesus’ humanity is not a veil or a mask that can be lifted; if it was, he would not be truly and fully human. Our belief that God came among us in Jesus Christ is radical: God become human and Mary bore God made flesh. So the transfiguration of Jesus on the mountain is not about a mask slipping, but about the glory of God shining in a person who is divine and human. It’s the transfiguration of humanity – the revealing of the divine glory, the ‘weight’ of the divine presence, in a divine life that is also a fully human life.
A very early, second century Bishop, Irenaeus of Lyon in modern day France, put it this way:
The glory of God is the living man, and the life of man is the vision of God.
By ‘man’, Irenaeus means both Jesus Christ and humanity, because Christ shares our humanity. So the glory of God is the living human person and our life, ultimately, is the vision of God.
What does this mean for us? It means, I think, that our humanity will be transfigured – made resplendent with the divine glory – in and through Jesus Christ. It means that the ‘weight’ of the divine presence, if you like, will fill us, so that we live with God as Peter, James and John knelt in the divine presence on the mountain. God welcomes us into his glory. God seeks us out in Jesus and draws us into his eternal presence, to see him. This is about the divine hospitality.
In our cultural context, this really matters because it says something about our humanity. Today, we are deeply at odds about human identity and human worth, about whether there’s anything distinctive or valuable about humanity. We quickly liken ourselves to technologies like AI, to the point where we think those technologies can replace the human or where we think of ourselves as little more that very slow computational machines. Human lives are seen as expendable on the battle fields of the world or as a means for the glorification of corrupt and idolatrous political leaders. What we celebrate this morning in the transfiguration of Jesus is the promise that human lives, humans fully alive, can be filled with divine glory – with radiant beauty, truth and goodness. It points us to the infinite dignity and worth of every human being who is given life by God’s glory. How much deeper and more mysterious and more hopeful an understanding of humanity we are shown today through the transfiguration of Jesus Christ.
But let’s confront a challenge. Our soiled faces, our broken hearts, our grieving spirits, our pained bodies, our sinful and contrite souls, seem so far from divine glory. How can we have hope in the vision of God, as Irenaeus put it? As we stand at the threshold of Lent, let’s remember St. John’s teaching in the New Testament:
Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure. (1 John 3.2-3)
We are God’s children now, but what we will be has not yet been revealed. We are yet to share in the transfiguration of Christ, but we will, ‘for we will see him as he is’. That’s our Christian hope at the beginning of Lent, that through the love and mercy of God in the passion, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we will enjoy the divine hospitality for all eternity and be full of the divine glory, for we will see him as he is.