Sunday before Lent Year A

Matt 17:1-9 The Transfiguration and Exod 24:12-18

One of the privileges of being a school teacher was not something that happened in the classroom. Rather, it was something that often happened many years after students had completed their schooling. I always found it a pleasure to meet students and to learn what had become of them. Let me give you two examples – with the names changed to protect identities. What I remember about Ryan was when maths lessons were directly after lunch, he was always late to class. I would ask, “Why are you late Ryan?” He would answer, “Sorry, I was kicking the ball around. It won’t happen again.” Yet, it always happened. I would explain to Ryan that if he wanted to get a good job, he needed to prioritise maths over sporting activities. He would nod and agree with me. I met Ryan about four years later in the main street. I ask if he was working. As usual he was unfailing polite. He said yes, he was now a professional footballer (Aussie Rules). But he did have the good grace to say maths was really important in managing his financial affairs. I was gratified to know that what I had taught him was helping him manage his meagre salary, and that I had been correct about prioritising maths over kicking a ball around. We said good-bye. I got into my car – an ancient and slightly worn-out Ford. He had to walk further down the street to his. After a couple of goes my car started. I wound down the window as it was a hot day and gave him a wave, as he pulled out from the other side of the road and tooted the horn of his brand-new red Ferrari. – Yes, it was a good job he had listened to me and persisted with maths. This interaction taught me something. I could see he was still the same person, and yet he was indeed a transformed young man.

A totally different case was Stacy. Whenever I would announce that we were going to some something important in class, such as factorizing algebraic expressions into binomial form, Stacy would exclaim, “this is boring, why are we doing this?” Rather than respond directly, I told her she had two minutes to come up with at least a couple of good arguments why we should not cover the material, and then the class would have to be the jury between my arguments and hers – but the class had to be impartial. This happened multiple times. At first her arguments were weak and I managed to convince the class – who were more fair-minded than I expected. However, over time she became more eloquent and logical. The class labelled her “the bush lawyer.” It came to the point where her arguments were better than mine. So, I would tell her she had won the argument and she was to be congratulated, but unfortunately my classroom was not a democracy, it was an autocracy – and if they did not know what that meant then they could go and look it up. I met Stacy several years later at an event in the town. It was the opening a new centre for the frail and aged. She no longer lived in that location, but in the capital city. She had made a significant donation to the new facility which came from her earnings as a corporate barrister. It was not the tailored suit that impressed me, by rather the change in personal bearing. It was the same person, but there was a sense of confidence and being self-assured. After those two encounters, I never met Ryan or Stacy again, but I know they will have both forged ahead in their respective careers.

The disciples had been accompanying Jesus for some time, when he decided to take three of them, Peter, James and John, up to a high mountain. By this stage they presumably thought they knew who Jesus was. However, their understanding was about to be radically recalibrated. Unlike Ryan or Stacy, the change in perspective was not as a result of Jesus maturing or taking on a new role, rather it was the outlook of the three disciples that shifted due to what they beheld. The event known as the transfiguration is strange. All of a sudden Jesus began to glow with dazzling light and his garments shone brightly. If that was not strange enough, next two figures from the Hebrew Bible, absent for many centuries, simply appear. Then a cloud shrouds the whole scene, and a divine voice speaks words similar to, but not identical with the words spoken at Jesus’ baptism. What on earth, or in heaven, is going on here?

To answer that question, we need to look back. In the passage just before this scene, Jesus for the first time announced to his disciples his impending death in Jerusalem. Then, he told them that sometime after his death he would return in his father’s glory, with the caveat that some standing at that moment in Jesus’ presence would see these things happen. However, we have not looked sufficiently far back to understand the transfiguration scene. Our reading from the Hebrew scriptures tells us of Moses being called to a mountain. In that scene, a cloud covers the mountain, the glory of God descends – and then what happens? Absolutely nothing for six days. It is only on the seventh day that God calls to Moses and the divine presence is seen by the people far below as a radiant fire atop the mountain. Moses is then given the ten commandments and descends the mountain.

At the beginning of our reading there is an unusually precise temporal detail. It commences with the phrase “and after six days,” – or at least it would have begun in that way if our reading did not cut out the first four words of the opening verse. Those words are so important for understanding the passage. For this is exactly the same time Moses had to wait before the divine voice spoke. The reference to the six-day period provides the clue that these two readings are meant to be understood together. After his second visit to the mountain, when Moses descended his face was radiant (Exod 34:30), reflecting the fact that he has been in God’s presence. However, over time that brightness faded. By contrast, in the transfiguration story the brightness radiates directly from Jesus on the mountain. Thus, it is no reflected glory, rather it emanates from Jesus. Next, two figures appear. Scholars have struggled to explain why these two are Moses and Elijah. One popular explanation is that together they represent the law and the prophets. However, I am not convinced that explanation works. Of course, Moses is known as the law-giver, but why Elijah as representative of the prophets? Why not Isaiah or Jeremiah, who unlike Elijah have vast prophetic writings in their names. It seems to me that these two figures appear for another reason. I would suggest it is due to the way they were understood in Jewish scriptures and expectations. Moses and Elijah are the two figures in the Old Testament who had been permitted to enter the presence of God. Moses on Mount Sinai was permitted to look at the back of God, as God passed by, and Elijah saw God on Mount Horeb, not in earthquake, not in wind or fire, but in that still, small voice of calm. These two figures from the Hebrew Bible who alone were permitted to see the divine presence now come into Jesus’ presence on another mountain. We are not told what the three figures discussed. To me that suggests that what is important is not the conversation, but the context. When Elijah met God, he had retreated to Mount Horeb fearing what lay ahead of him. King Ahab and his incredibly delightful wife, a certain Jezebel, were seeking to kill Elijah. In the gospel account, Jesus has just declared that he will face death in Jerusalem – but unlike Elijah, he does not turn away. Moses became the mediator of God’s words and carried two stone tablets down from the mountain. By contrast, Jesus is not given tablets of stone. Rather the disciples are told “listen to him.” Unlike Moses, Jesus will speak heavenly things directly to the people of God. In this way the gospel writers present Jesus as transcending even the two greatest figures of the Hebrew scriptures. Jesus does not simply bring the law of God to the people, rather he speaks heavenly thing to his disciples. Whereas Elijah had to be brought into God’s presence to warn him not be fearful of death threats against him, Jesus has already announced to the disciples the path of suffering that he will face.

I said earlier, I did not meet Ryan or Stacy again. That is true. However, I did see Stacy several years later – on television of all places. She had stopped practicing law, and had been elected to the state parliament as part of the opposition. I forget the precise policy concerning which she was taking the government to task. She was issuing forth with a series of staccato rapid-fire arguments against the change that had been introduced. Then she paused and looked directly into the camera, she said she could argue against the individual points of the policy all day long (and I for one, believed her). However, she said there was a more compelling truth, and it was this “the people of Western Australia deserved to live in a democracy and not in an autocracy – and as it was clear that the government did not understand what that meant, so they should go and look it up.” A smile came across my face, I had taught Stacy something. It was just a shame it was not maths. Had either Stacy or Ryan changed since I knew them in a maths classroom? In all honesty, I now think not. But how I perceived them was totally different. I could see them as the people they were always destined to be.

Peter, James and John had been with Jesus many months. They assumed they knew who he was – a new prophet proclaiming the kingdom. Jesus had spoken of his impending death, and Peter would have none of that. However, at the summit of a mountain a transformation occurred. Yes, Jesus was transfigured, but I wonder who was really changed. In that place, Jesus’ true form was revealed as one radiating divine glory and yet faithfully heading to his fate in Jerusalem. Yet maybe the true change was in the perception of his followers. We read the story of the transfiguration just before we begin our own Lenten journey. With Peter, James, and John, today we are taken to a mountain top and we encounter the great figures of the past. However, they fade and Jesus shines. We see him in a new and more glorious light. And yet, and yet, despite this glimpse into the divine glory of which Jesus partakes there is a more difficult journey to undertake. The pathway is to Jerusalem. In that place, Jesus will take the same three disciples aside again. This time in a garden, and he will pray in anguish, and yet still in obedience to the same God. I wonder did the divine glory shine more brightly on a high mountain, or perhaps in a dark garden. Neither location changed Jesus, but both reveal more fully the person he was and the vocation to which he was called. This Lent as we travel that same road from mountain to garden, and then on to cross and tomb, perhaps we might discover a more of our own vocation as disciples, as those called to take up the cross and to follow. My prayer for all of us, for you and for me, is that we might be faithful, on mountain tops, in gardens, and then at the foot of the cross. And in so doing, maybe we too may glimpse the true glory of the one who is our rejected, crucified, and yet risen and ascended Lord, this day and always. Amen.