Transformed by Transfiguration

The First United Presbyterian Church

“Transformed By Transfiguration”

Rev. Amy Morgan

March 3, 2019

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Exodus 34:29-35

29 Moses came down from Mount Sinai. As he came down from the mountain with the two tablets of the covenant in his hand, Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God.

 30 When Aaron and all the Israelites saw Moses, the skin of his face was shining, and they were afraid to come near him.

 31 But Moses called to them; and Aaron and all the leaders of the congregation returned to him, and Moses spoke with them.

 32 Afterward all the Israelites came near, and he gave them in commandment all that the LORD had spoken with him on Mount Sinai.

 33 When Moses had finished speaking with them, he put a veil on his face;

 34 but whenever Moses went in before the LORD to speak with him, he would take the veil off, until he came out; and when he came out, and told the Israelites what he had been commanded,

 35 the Israelites would see the face of Moses, that the skin of his face was shining; and Moses would put the veil on his face again, until he went in to speak with him.

Luke 9:28-36

28 Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray.

 29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.

 30 Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him.

 31 They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.

 32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him.

 33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"-- not knowing what he said.

 34 While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud.

 35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!"

 36 When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

Naming a child is a treacherous task. Many parents tackle it before the child is even born. For those who wait, the decision must be made under a time crunch. But in any case, the child must be named long before we have any idea who he or she will turn out to be.

Our names become so closely linked to our identity that they are practically inseparable. What if you name a child something that completely doesn’t fit their personality? Will it somehow change who they were meant to be? What if they grow to despise the name you gave them? Will it affect their self-esteem? What if 30,000 other people give their babies the same name in the same year? Will they still feel special? What if their name results in hurtful nicknames? Will they hate us as parents for doing this to them?

Naming a child is treacherous.

Jesus was a common name for Jewish boys in the first century. It is the Greek derivative of the Hebrew name Joshua, meaning “The LORD saves.” There were plenty of Jesuses, Joshuas, running around town when the Messiah was born. So what made this name especially fitting for Joseph and Mary’s firstborn? How did it shape his identity? Did he like his name? Did it impact his sense of authority? What made him special among all the Jesuses of his day? Did people think the whole Christ thing was just a nickname?

Luke’s gospel seems to be obsessed, not just with Jesus’ name, but with the whole question of his identity. 

It begins with this extended birth narrative filled with angelic visitations and prophesies and predictions. Mary and Joseph don’t actually have to worry about naming Jesus. An angel handles this for them. Strangers in the temple and prophets from the wilderness talk about who Jesus is, what his name means. God speaks directly to Jesus in his baptism, giving him the nickname, “Beloved Son of God.”  Note that in Luke’s gospel, this message is heard only by Jesus himself.

Then, after all this build-up about how divine Jesus is, Luke gives Jesus’ human genealogy, going through the names of his ancestors all the way back to Adam, son of God.  In his hometown, people start asking, “Who is this guy?  Isn’t he just the son of the carpenter? Isn’t he just another Jesus?” 

This is followed by more stories of healing and miracles, and more questions about Jesus’ identity.  The Pharisees want to know what makes Jesus think he’s special enough to forgive sins, and then they want to know why Jesus is such a loser that he eats with tax collectors and sinners. John the Baptist, in prison, wants to know who Jesus is. Herod wants to know who Jesus is. Jesus wants to know who people say that he is. Then he wants to know who his disciples think he is.  We think Peter wins final Jeopardy by correctly answering that Jesus is the Messiah of God, but then Jesus starts talking about his suffering and death, and the disciples get all confused again.  

Who is this Jesus guy? 

Everybody loves him, and then people hate him. 

He’s the Son of God and the Son of Man. 

He’s holy and righteous, but he hangs out with sinners. 

He’s the Messiah, but he’s going to suffer and die.

By the time we reach this point in Luke’s gospel, everyone is thoroughly confounded.

And so Jesus goes up a mountain with his disciples to pray, as he often does. He goes to gain solace and clarity. And on this mountaintop, we finally get a crystal-clear picture of who Jesus is.

As he is transfigured, his face shines like the face of Moses after his encounters with God. His dazzlingly white clothes reflect his perfect righteousness. Then, just in case we didn’t get the point yet, Moses and Elijah show up for a chat.

Now, the symbolism of this transfiguration and visits from undead patriarchs may not be obvious to us. But Peter, James, and John, along with Luke’s original audience, would have picked up on it right away. Jesus is the fulfillment of the law, embodied by Moses, and the hope proclaimed by the prophets, embodied by Elijah.

Jesus lives up to his name. The Lord saves, as the Lord always has, through the law and the prophets, but now perfectly and completely in Jesus the Christ.

Now, I say that this would have been perfectly obvious to the disciples, but they are still clearly missing the point. Peter starts babbling about turning this into a camp-out. I love that Luke points out matter-of-factly that Peter has no idea what he’s saying. He’s having such a good time, he doesn’t want the party to break up. If they can hang out with these rock-stars of the faith, Moses and Elijah, for a while, they will for sure be the coolest guys anywhere around the sea of Galilee.

But the Law and the Prophets aren’t supposed to be interesting or cool. They have become distractions for the disciples. Instead of following them, doing what the Law and Prophets say, Peter wants to enshrine them, dip them in gold and put them up on a shelf to look at.

When my son was a toddler, there were some times, very few, when he had just a little bit of trouble listening. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t understand me or just didn’t want to understand me. One day, I expressed my frustration to his preschool teacher, and she enlightened me. The trouble wasn’t that he didn’t understand. It was that he was too distracted to know that it was important for him to understand.

His teacher explained that, in order to get children to listen to you, you have to get down on their level, put a hand on either side of their face, and turn their face toward you, so you have their full attention and block out all the distractions.

That is what God is doing here with the disciples. 

God gets down on the disciples’ level, enveloping them in a cloud. God puts holy hands on their cheeks as they are overshadowed, and all distractions are blocked out.

 

God needs their full and undivided attention. Because if there are only nine words in all of scripture that God wants us to hear, they are these: “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

God wants us to know, with absolute clarity, who Jesus is and what we’re supposed to do with him. Jesus, The Lord Saves, is the Messiah, the Chosen One, the Son of God. He is shaped by his name, and it is intrinsically tied to his identity. He has some great nick-names, but they all essentially mean the same thing. Jesus is special, no matter how many other kids share his name.

And when God says “listen to him,” God wants us to engage more than our ears.

Now that my son is a teenager, he still has some, slight trouble listening to me – just sometimes. When I have to remind him to listen to me, I don’t mean that he needs to hear the words I’m saying. I know he hears me just fine. What I mean is that he needs to do what I say. Usually, this involves putting on some article of clothing. 

Likewise, when God tells the disciples to listen to Jesus, the point is that they need to do what Jesus has been saying all along, not just hear his words and go on doing whatever they please. Jesus is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, the one who will show us how to do what the Law and Prophets say, not just hear their words and go along with our lives. Jesus is transfigured, just as we are to be transformed.

But the disciples are not transformed by the transfiguration. They go on to fail to understand Jesus and God’s kingdom, bicker about greatness, and, in the end, deny Jesus on his way to the cross. 

Listening is so much harder than hearing. Listening requires our full attention. Listening often demands action. Sometimes it means we have to do things we’d rather not.

And so we hear, but we don’t listen.

We hear Jesus say, “blessed are the poor,” and we go right on supporting the systems and institutions that keep us rich. We hear Jesus say, “blessed are the hungry” and go right on consuming. We hear Jesus say, “blessed are those who mourn” and go right on seeking our personal happiness above all else.

Meanwhile, we try to build some sense of permanence around doctrines and creeds. We construct bunkers for our ideologies and enshrine the words of past prophets. And we are not transformed.

Because, as much as I hate to admit it, we cannot be transformed with words. I know, I say a lot of words, from this pulpit and in emails and newsletters and Sunday school classes and meetings. We read a lot of words. In books and in liturgies and confessions. But words cannot transform us if we do not listen.

The Word of God desires to transform us. Jesus, the Son of God, the embodiment of all God’s words, is speaking. Jesus, the Light of the World, is illuminating the Way of God.

But we don’t listen. We don’t do what Jesus says. We are not transformed.

And that is why we come to this table, again and again. Here, God puts holy hands on our cheeks, blocks out distractions, and demands our full attention. Here, God shows us who Jesus is. Ordinary bread and juice testify to an ordinary man. And the holy presence of Jesus in these ordinary things testifies that he is Emmanuel, God with Us. We are invited to this table because Jesus ate with sinners. And we are called to repentance and reconciliation at this table because Jesus spoke with Moses and Elijah, embodying the Law and the Prophets.

Here, the Son of God speaks, again and again, and we are called to listen, to follow him.

In the words of invitation, the words of our liturgy, the words of our prayers, the words of institution, may we hear, not an empty ritual, a dwelling constructed to protect us from transformation, but the Word, the Son of God. May we hear and listen. May we be transformed, as we follow the transfigured Jesus. Amen.