SERMON FOR TRANSFIGURATION SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 2020 TEXT: MATTHEW 17:1-9

Epiphany begins with a persistent blaze of light — the star of Bethlehem leading the wisemen from the East to the infant Jesus in Bethlehem. The first Sunday after Epiphany celebrates the baptism of Jesus. Now an adult, he comes to John the Baptist at the River Jordan. Hesitant at first — John protests, “Indeed I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” — John consents at Jesus’ urging. Matthew tells us, “And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’”

Now six weeks later we come to the last Sunday of the Epiphany season, and it ends as it began, with an explosion of light and a voice speaking from a bright cloud, proclaiming Jesus’ identity in the same way, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with him I am well pleased . . .” The story of the Transfiguration is rich in scriptural allusions — Jesus going up a high mountain and being filled with divine light, just as Moses ascended Mount Sinai and became radiant in the presence of God. According to the Book of Genesis, when he came down from the mountain carrying the two tablets of the covenant, unbeknownst to him, “the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God” (Genesis 34:29), and the Israelites feared to come near him. Jesus’ other companion, the prophet Elijah, is also glorified when, at the end of his life, a chariot and horses of fire appear to carry him home, as the spiritual puts it, and he rises up in a whirlwind into heaven. The story of his extraordinary departure from this world to the next gave rise to the hope that he would return as a harbinger of the end times, an expectation alluded to twice in the Gospel of Mathew. In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus had made clear that he came not to abolish but to fulfill the law and the prophets (5:17). So here is Jesus at this last epiphany, this stunning disclosure of his identity, before facing the reality of what he has predicted, “that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and the chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised” (Matthew 16:21). He is flanked by Moses, who brought the good gift of God’s law from the mountaintop down to the people of Israel, and Elijah, who embodies the prophetic tradition. The continuity is made clear, but so is the difference. As precious as Moses and Elijah were to God, only Jesus is called out as the beloved Son with whom God is well pleased. God commands the disciples present to listen to him, not them, because the whole of Israel’s tradition comes to fulfillment in Jesus. He builds on the law and the prophets; he deepens their meaning and surpasses their expectation.

Six days before this extraordinary event Jesus had asked his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter made bold to answer, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” Once again it is Peter who steps forward to respond. “Lord, it is good for us to be here,” he says. “If you wish I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Although Peter’s offer is often interpreted as impetuous and foolhardy, as if it were even possible to capture this extraordinary moment and contain it, in Matthew’s account he does not presume but awaits Jesus’ command. He offers an act of reverence, intending to mark the place where they have encountered the divine, just as their Old Testament forebears did. But before Peter can even finish making his offer, he is interrupted by the voice from the bright cloud. Amazement now gives way to fear. Jesus does not reproach his disciples for this. He reassures them with a touch and comforting words, “Get up and do not be afraid.” The vision is over. Moses and Elijah have disappeared. But Jesus remains and returns with them to their familiar and dangerous world. Trouble lies ahead; all too soon the disciples will see Jesus condemned and crucified. And once again they will be overcome by fear. Yet in this moment they carry with them the experience of his glory — Jesus shining like the sun, radiant with power and hope and blessing.

This brilliant light, God’s urgent command “Listen to him,” Jesus’ kindly exhortation, “Get up and do not be afraid” — these are what we take with us as we enter the season of Lent. We come face to face with our mortality and our wrongdoing. We recognize that our lives are constantly changing but rarely transfigured. The chaos of our world is beyond our comprehension, not to mention our control. But that light, which we have celebrated throughout the season of Epiphany, that light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it. Amen.