What Happened?

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

March 2, 2014

What Happened?

Matthew 17:1-9

“Let’s take a walk.”

We can almost hear Jesus’ voice

as he takes Peter by the arm,

Peter following without question;

Peter following without understanding.

“Come with us,” Jesus then says

to James and his brother John.

Off they go, Jesus and the three,

the other disciples not even aware

that the four had left them.

They walked for what seemed like an hour,

and then they began to climb,

climb a mountain,

an otherwise anonymous pile of rock,

nameless,

distinguished only by the fact that Jesus chose it,

chose to walk up it, climb to the top.

Up they went, no one talking,

Jesus leading the way,

walking briskly, eyes fixed firmly on the peak.

The others huffing and puffing their way following him,

their eyes fixed on the path before them,

none of them wanting to trip, slip,

or fall behind.

And then they were there –

on the top, a small flat space on the peak.

But even before they could

catch their breath from the climb,

even before they could ask Jesus

why he’d brought them there,

they saw –

they saw the man they’d followed

saw him radiant,

glowing,

not as if he was standing in the full splendor

of the noonday sun,

but as though he had light within him,

as though he had swallowed all the stars of the sky

and the starlight now shone

through his face, his eyes,

even his hair.

And it wasn’t just his face and his hair

that were radiant –

even his clothing, the very tunic he wore,

the tunic that like theirs was almost always dirty,

covered with a layer of dust from their journeys –

the tunic was now a brilliant white,

a white they’d never seen before in any fabric,

as though the light of the sun

had been woven into every thread.

And as if that wasn’t astonishing enough,

suddenly there he was to Jesus’ left,

the prophet Elijah,

that great prophet who had lived centuries before,

the prophet whom Scripture said

had been taken up on a whirlwind,

in a heavenly chariot,

a chariot of fire, drawn by horses of fire.

(2 Kings 2:11)

And there on Jesus’ right was Moses.

Moses!

The great prophet who more than

a thousand years earlier

had led their ancestors out of Egypt,

out of slavery,

through the wilderness,

all the way to the land given them,

promised them by the Lord God.

Jesus radiant, glowing;

Jesus with Elijah and Moses!

Peter, James and John were stunned,

unable to speak.

It was Peter who broke the silence,

stammering out his words,

James and John hearing him utter something about

building shelters, booths, tents

for Jesus, Elijah, and Moses.

Peter’s words made no sense at all.

But even as Peter spoke

a cloud descended upon them,

a thick, yet light, cloud

that covered the entire top of the mountain,

and from it came a voice,

a voice that said so clearly, so distinctly,

“This is my Son, the Beloved,

with him I am well pleased.

Listen to him.”

This was more than the disciples could bear.

As the words rumbled out from the cloud,

across the sky,

the three fell to the ground,

each of them desperate for a hole to crawl into,

a rock to hide behind.

Something, anything to protect them.

But then, one by one, they felt his touch,

their Lord’s hand gentle on their shoulders

as they cowered in fear.

“Get up” Jesus said,

“Do not be afraid.”

The very sound of his voice soothed them,

took away their fear,

and as each stood up

and brushed the dirt off their garments,

they saw the cloud had lifted,

Moses and Elijah were nowhere to be seen,

and their Lord looked just as he had

when they had begun their journey,

the dust on Jesus’ garment

once again as evident as that on their own.  

What happened?

Was it all a dream?

Had they imagined it?

This scene,

this scene we now call the Transfiguration,

this scene, this story

that we now consider so important

that it is on the lectionary schedule every year,

the Sunday right before Lent.

What happened on that mountaintop?

What really happened?

The interpretations run the gamut.

In the early years of Christianity,

some argued that this was

the moment Jesus became divine,

that Jesus was transformed from fully human,

to fully divine.

Others said no,

that moment occurred as Jesus came up

out the waters of his baptism.

But we, of course, believe neither,

taking on faith that Jesus was always fully human,

fully God,

just as our Nicene Creed reminds us.

Others say that the Transfiguration occurred

for the benefit of the disciples,

so that they would know that Jesus was indeed     

the Son of God, the Messiah.

Elijah and Moses were there

to point to the coming of the Messiah.

And just so there would be no doubt,

God himself made it clear,

speaking through the clouds.

But even this interpretation,

as compelling as it sounds,

leaves us with questions.

Why did Jesus take only three disciples –

why didn’t he take all of his group?

At the very least, we would think

that he should have taken Thomas

so that Thomas would never be known as “doubting”.

Did Peter, James and John behave

any differently following this?

Didn’t the three of them fall asleep

in the garden of Gesthemane after the Last Supper

even as Jesus pleaded with them

to stay awake?

Didn’t Peter deny knowing Jesus

and didn’t they all flee in fear following Jesus’ arrest?

Why didn’t Jesus take Judas with them,

let Judas witness the Transfiguration?

For all the various interpretations

we have of this story,

I find the end of the story most compelling.

Jesus and the three

coming back down the mountain,

the cloud lifted,

the voice silent,

Elijah and Moses gone,

Jesus no longer radiant,

his tunic once again dusty and dirty,

the four walking back down in the late afternoon sunshine.

This is the essence of the story:

Jesus with them,

the Messiah, the Son of God,

walking back down with them,

alongside them,

back into the everyday world,

back into their everyday world –

the world of love and hate,

war and peace,

violence and tenderness,

hope and fear.

Jesus with them – Peter, James and John,

in all their fumbling, and stumbling.

Just as Jesus is with us

in all our fumbling and stumbling.

The promise of the word Emmanuel:

God with us.

Not a God removed, distant,

atop some mountain,

but here, now, inviting us to eat,

to break bread at his table,

to drink from his cup.

“See the home of God is among mortals.

He will dwell with them,

…God will be with them.”

(Revelation 21:3)

Our Lord with us, to transfigure us,

transform us,

if only we would let him,

that the light of a million stars,

the light that is our Lord,

would radiate from each of us,

from you, from me. 

We need not climb a mountain

for our light has come.

The glory of the Lord shines brightly upon us.
(Isaiah 60:1)

AMEN