Sunday next before Lent
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Readings: 2 Peter 1: 16-end and Matthew 17: 1-9
Do you remember a mountain or hill-top experience in your life? Of course, we have plenty of opportunity to climb hills around here, for those fortunate enough to be able to do so. I can remember three very distinct hill-top experiences in my life. One was on Ingleborough in the North Pennines, on a school field trip in, I think, 1970. It was a cloudy and bitterly cold day – mountain tops can be pretty chilly – but the sun suddenly broke through and the world below was suddenly revealed. I am also fortunate enough to have been to Mount Tabor, the supposed site of the Transfiguration, which we are thinking about this morning. And then I recall my first visit to the Malvern Hills, about 1989, and the wonderfully clear view both to east and west from the Worcestershire Beacon.
There should be no surprise that Jesus chose to take those three disciples – Peter, James and John – to a mountain for this experience recorded in the gospel for today. Mountains are often where special encounters took place between God and his messengers in biblical times. Of course, it requires some effort to reach a mountain-top. This deters the lazy and half-hearted. Mountains are places of beauty and pure air. From such places one can sometimes see with great clarity, and so far. But mountains are also dangerous places, with clouds and mist easily disorientating even the most seasoned climber. There is risk and discomfort involved.
Like any mountain top, the occasion of the Transfiguration was a watershed. After this extraordinary meeting of famous figures, Jesus begins his descent from which he will experience the depths of human wickedness. For the disciples, also, this high point in their time with Jesus soon ends. Once they get to the foot of the mountain Jesus explains he is to be given into human power to be killed. Paradoxically, he will climb another hill at the end of this journey – to Calvary. Instead of the two great figures Moses and Elijah for company, he will have two common criminals either side of him. From a mountain of glory he will come to a hill of shame. On one there’s a bright cloud; on the other – darkness. On one Peter is thrilled to be there; at the other he’s vanished.
Yes. Peter and James and John. We talk about these as the ‘inner three’ Jesus takes with him at crucial moments. They witness the raising of Jairus’ daughter; they are here at the Transfiguration. They are called on to be with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, and told to stay awake – but they fail miserably. Nevertheless, Jesus seemed happy to have these three far-from-perfect individuals as his close companions – which I think is significant for us.
So here, these three disciples are to be given a glimpse of Jesus’ true glory. Jesus’ clothes become dazzling white. Peter, James and John get an experience they won’t forget. They see the glory; they hear the voice; they witness the appearance of Moses and Elijah. Peter blurts out, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish I will make three dwellings here for you.” I’m sure we all remember saying something stupid or banal on a particular occasion when the best thing would have been to remain silent. But let’s not be too hard on Peter, who was only trying to clinch the moment – to do justice to an experience so overwhelming that all normal categories are blown away. We do the same today, building churches and shrines on sites where earth and heaven have overlapped in special ways. We try to capture profound spiritual experience; but you can’t capture God and put him in a bottle.
On the mountain, after Peter’s interjection, a bright cloud overshadows the disciples, and they hear the voice and fall to the ground. Charismatic Christians sometimes talk about ‘being slayed in the Spirit’ and being thrown to the ground. John Betjeman, in a gentler but no less profound way, talked of entering country churches and so powerfully sensing God’s presence that falling to his knees was the only appropriate response.
After the disciples hear the voice – ‘This is my Son, the beloved … Listen to him’, the first thing they hear Jesus say, is “Get up and do not be afraid.” This balance of admonition and assurance is very characteristic of Christ’s way with his people, as one writer observes. ‘The Lord, in his mercy, does not tell me what is going to happen; only that I must get up and face it, and that I should not fear.’
The first reading today comes from the Second Letter of Peter. The apostles’ eye-witness account of the Transfiguration is used here to give heart to a community that is beginning to doubt. 2 Peter was one of the last books of the New Testament to be written. The congregations being addressed are beginning to suspect that they have been sold a line. They had almost certainly converted to Christianity in the expectation that the world would soon end and that they would be on the winning side. But as the Second Coming delayed, so they began to wonder and doubt. The writer of the letter offers strong proof that Jesus Christ is the one approved by God. “We heard the voice on the holy mountain”, he says. Normally when reading the words of the voice, I would say, “This is my Son, listen to him”, but perhaps the emphasis should be, “This is my Son, listen to him.”
So we embark on our Lenten journey this week. Ash Wednesday takes us back to basics. As ash is placed on our foreheads, we are reminded, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return; turn away from sin and follow Christ.” We’re invited to remember exactly who and what we are. And then we have the opportunity to journey with Jesus – ‘through the night of doubt and sorrow’, as it were. Lent admonishes us, but Jesus reassures us as well – ‘Get up, and do not be afraid.’
Judith Dimond writes, “Consider how imperfect the disciples were, and yet how privileged to share the vision of Christ on the holy mountain. Lent is partly for this – to help us stride or stumble towards a holier life, to open our eyes to God’s forgiving grace and his cleansing judgement.
So, “Transfigured Lord, grant me
Moments when I may glimpse your glory and hear the voice of God.
As we prepare to enter Lent on our knees in penitence,
Touch us with your powerful love,
And give us the strength once more to stand upright in your presence.
Amen.”