The transfiguration of our Lord: February 6, 2005.

Exodus 24:12-18

Psalm 2

2 Peter 1:16-21

Matthew 17:1-9

First Reading

This particular sojourn for Moses on the mountain of God (Exodus 24:12-18) comes at the conclusion of the first part of the great theophany at Sinai during which the Covenant is made with Israel and the Decalogue and the book of the Covenant are given. Some scholars have suggested that these verses are a conflation of two traditions, the Elohist in verses 12-15a and 18b and verses 15b-18a of Priestly origin.

Perhaps more important to our task is the nature of the appearing of God on the mountain. Traditionally, our portion of the text is identified, along with the ratification of the covenant and the celebratory meal in the presence of God, as the closing scene in the first act of the great theophany. But the argument could be made that this subsequent ascent of Sinai introduces the next major section of the Sinai experience--the granting of instructions for the building of the sanctuary, the preparation of its furnishings, and the consecration of its ministers. The description of "the cloud" and "the glory of Yahweh" as the means by which God is present corresponds to the tabernacled presence of the Lord, which will soon fill the newly built tent of meeting (40:34-35) and will later take possession of Solomon's temple (1 Kings 8:10-11). It is the same phenomenon that Ezekiel describes as leaving the temple just before the fall of Jerusalem and later returning to reestablish God's presence there.

To the watching Israelites, the "devouring fire" of God's presence is a fearful sight into which Moses walks, being summoned by God to enter on the seventh day (perhaps signaling the completion of a time of preparation). As Moses remains unseen on the mountain for an indefinitely long period ("forty days and forty nights"), the Israelites below come to assume the worst and prevail upon Aaron to make them an idol to worship (chap. 32). Being within sight of the phenomenon of God's appearing does not guarantee faith or an appropriate interpretation of the meaning of that presence.

Psalm 2 declares the primacy of Israel's king before the nations of the world. This claim is made not on an historical basis but on a theological one with the assertion of God's fatherhood and anointing for the messianic ruler of God's people. By extension, all the kings of the earth are thus subordinate to Israel's king. They may desire rebellion against Yahweh and the anointed one but are not capable of anything more than terror at the fury of God's rebuke. One note: the locus of the mountain of the Lord is changed from Sinai to Zion. It is here that all the peoples of the earth are called to gather in fear and trembling.

For his part, the anointed one of God is granted absolute authority over the nations (which are already assumed to be God's possession). According to James Mays (Interpretation, John Knox Press), this is the only psalm in which all three royal titles are present--king, son of God, anointed one. If indeed it was used as part of the installation of the king, this would affirm for his court and his people the extent and foundation of his authority.

Speaking with apostolic authority, the author of 2 Peter seeks to assert the primacy of early catholic teaching in the post-apostolic church. Scholars disagree about the nature of the opponents whose teaching raised the need for this letter. Perhaps they were early Gnostics whose mythological systems would occasion the reference in 1:16. This would likely date the book to the early second century, well after the death of Peter in 65-67 C.E. Others contend that, with the passing of the first generation of Christian believers, the eschatological urgency that so influenced the early church was lost. In its place there grew a dangerous ethical libertinism that threatened the moral and social fabric of the emerging faith. Many holding this view date the book as early as 60 C.E. but more likely in the last decade of the first century.

Our passage is introduced by the writer's need to remind the readers of his testimony before his impending martyrdom. It is followed by an acknowledgment of the presence of false teachers within the community and the judgment that awaits them. In between, the author claims to be an eyewitness to the transfiguration. Interestingly, the synoptics do not specifically mention God but simply a voice from the cloud. Here the author interprets for us that voice as God the Father and the cloud as Yahweh's transcendent glory--not by citing specifics from the Old Testament but by reiterating the understanding already current in first-century Christianity. The "holy mountain" here is obviously not Sinai and likely not Zion, but the mount of the transfiguration, which becomes their antitype.

As the words of the prophets are thus confirmed in the revealing of Jesus on the mountain, so the early church is called to faith in the orthodoxy that stems from such witness and interpretation. Rather than abandoning their expectations, believers are called to trust that the glimpse of Jesus' glory in that moment portends his return in glory at the parousia. This understanding is the bright focus of their hope that must not be diminished by the counterclaims of the various false teachers and preachers who have arisen among them.

Matthew's presentation of the transfiguration (17:1-8) comes six days after Jesus' first prophecy of his passion, death, and resurrection and is located on a high but unnamed mountain, variously proposed as Mount Tabor (in Galilee) and Mount Hermon (near Caesarea Philippi; see 16:13). Matthew's account differs from Mark and Luke in that Jesus is more distinctly presented as the new Moses, characterized by Jesus' meeting with God on a new Sinai after which his face shines (Exod 24:15-18). Jesus meets with two other biblical figures, Moses and Elijah, both of whom experienced revelations on Sinai and who personify the Law and the Prophets, which are now brought to their fullness in Jesus.

Only three disciples are present with Jesus on the mountain--Peter, James and John. The reference to six days may parallel the time that Moses waited on the mountain to be received by Yahweh and could thus place this incident on the seventh day, even as Moses entered God's presence on the seventh day. The prediction of the cross frames this event (16:21, 17:9).

Nonetheless, for one brief moment Jesus' deeper glory overwhelms his humble, human bearing so that the disciples may grasp the fuller identity and authority of Jesus. Peter's declaration of wonder and desire to enshrine the experience unintentionally places Jesus on the same level as Moses and Elijah, indicating that the full significance of this event in the light of Jesus' predictions of his death and resurrection had not yet become apparent to even Jesus' inner circle of followers. So the voice from the cloud, clearly an interpolation of God's presence, interrupts in messianic language that affirms Jesus' place as authoritative Son of God. Terrified, the disciples fall on their faces, an appropriate position for worship. But, standing at Jesus' invitation, they find that only Jesus remains, the one to whom they are commanded to listen. It is often proposed that the inclusion of v. 9 in this pericope is necessary so that the event itself will not overwhelm the remainder of Jesus' earthly ministry or impede Jesus' journey to the cross.

Pastoral Reflection

I am intrigued by the shifting location of the mountain of God. We encounter it first in Sinai's desert, then in Jerusalem, then in Galilee (or Lebanon, take your pick). The question becomes: Where might we next encounter Yahweh's glory? How will we be surprised, indeed driven to our knees, at the bright majesty of God's appearing?

My beeper went off a little after 1 a.m. It was December, the middle of Advent, which means that there was Christmas music on the radio during the drive into the hospital. Making my way to the neurosurgical intensive care unit, I was greeted by a very somber charge nurse who informed me that things were not going well at bed 4. The thirteen-year-old girl who lay there, full of tubes and surrounded by all that technology could muster in her defense, had collapsed at her school that afternoon. Taken to a small, local hospital, it was determined that she had suffered a significant "bleeder" on her brain. She was flown to the large, urban medical center where I worked in the hope that the surgeons there could rein in the damage and save her life. That was not going to happen.

The girl's mother and her aunt were sitting at the bedside. I did not want to go into the small space allowed for their suffering, not because I didn't wish to interrupt them but simply because I was afraid. I was afraid of my own ignorance. I was afraid of what they might ask me to do or say. I was afraid of my own vulnerability in the face of their potential anger. But chaplains walk into such situations, and so I did.

I was not surprised by the greeting I received. The aunt was overwhelmed with grief and hurt, and in no uncertain terms laid out before me her refusal to accept what she understood to be God's horrific intervention into this young girl's life. How dare the Almighty steal away this precious one from her family and friends? And she wept; and so did the child's mother; and so did I.

We sat without words for a long time. When finally I had summoned the courage to suggest that we pray together, the girl's mother took my hands, grasping them fiercely. Between her words and mine we commended the child into the care of the One to whom she had always belonged. We prayed for strength in the midst of wrenching loss and hope for a resurrection life that could transfigure even death itself. Our amens spoken, the mother looked at me and smiled.

There was no cloud or bright, fiery glory in that moment. But there was the shining face of this woman. Her tears were a dazzling testimony to both love and faith. In that room, the authority of God was not merely a theological exercise or a claim to be made against the enemies of this life and preached in the orthodoxy of the church. The authority of God was a living certainty that the one who fulfills all the promises of God stands at last even as Lord over death itself. And in Christ's power, we could go out from that little room to live amid the idols and sufferings of this world in hope.

The girl died shortly before sunrise. When her mother kissed her finally goodbye, her tears remained on the child's now quiet face. So, too, did the glory of the one who had received her home. And there again is the mountain of God ... the place of Yahweh's appearing, of Jesus' glorification. It is the cross-crowned place named Calvary, where at last in the revelation of Jesus we, too, are transfigured from death into life. DLN