On Transfigurations and Transformations

 

Rev Dr Mark Porizky

 

2/3/08

 

Matthew 17:1-9

 


Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.’ While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’ When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.’ And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

 

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, ‘Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.’

 


 

When I was a kid, there were a few movies that seemed to get watched every year.  “It’s a Wonderful Life,” at Christmas, always.  “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” was my mother’s favorite.  “Mary Poppins” was my sister’s choice.  Me?  Well, I liked to be scared to death.  So a favorite was “The Wizard of Oz.” 

 

“The Wizard of Oz,” terrifying?  No, it wasn’t the wicked witch that did me in.  She was fake, I knew that.  And I could handle the tornado that blew Dorothy out of Kansas or even the wizard himself.  What I couldn’t stand were the flying monkeys.  They scared the daylights out of me.  Whenever they appeared I would hide behind the couch.  No flying monkey was going to swoop down and carry me away.  No way!

 

Of course, eventually I learned that there were no such things as flying monkeys.  Flying squirrels, yes; flying monkeys, no.  I discovered that my fear was unreasonable. 

 

Yet having come to grips with my anxiety over airborne apes does not mean that I have overcome all my fears.  Like most folks, there are anxieties that still haunt me.  Giant bugs, the size of baseballs, make me queasy.  And I still fear that liver is going to make a comeback as a dinner entrée and that some mother like mine is going to make me eat it.    

 

But of all the fears I have, the strangest may be my fear of the IRS—the Internal Revenue Service, a fear that starts to grow right about this time of year.  Now, let me be clear, I have always been mostly honest about my income.  I have always paid my taxes on time.  Yet the thought of a certified letter from the IRS frightens me.  It is the flying monkey of my adulthood.

 

While my fear may be silly, the reason for it is simple.  The IRS possesses, at least in my imagination, an almost life-or-death power.  You can fight city hall, but you best not mess with the IRS.  Make the auditor happy and all is well.  Hack her off, and its, “Do you have all of the receipts for these deductions?  And this item here, what proof do you have it is legitimate?  I think we might need to look at your returns from the last seven years.” 

 

At least in my mind, the IRS’s power is frighteningly absolute.

 

I share this with you because that fear is the closest I can come to conveying the biblical picture of a human being before God.  God the Creator is not our buddy.  God is the one who holds our life and death in his hands.  To be in his presence is the most frightening reality one can experience.

   

Take Moses for example.  The book of Exodus tells us that Moses was watching his father-in-law's sheep when he noticed a bush that was burning but not consumed.  Curious, he went to see the bush, to see why it was not consumed.  But as he neared it, God called out to him.  God told him he was on holy ground, stop and take off his sandals.  And God said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.”

 

And what did Moses do?

 

He “hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.”

 

 Or consider Isaiah’s experience.  Isaiah was in the temple in Jerusalem .  He was a faithful worshipper of God.  A devout and holy man.  And yet when in a vision Isaiah sees the divine throne room, when he glimpses God high and lofty, he crumbles in fear.  “Woe is me!  I am lost,” he says, “for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Lords!” 

 

Isaiah knew he was a dead man because he was sinful just like everyone else.  And there was no place for the sinful in the presence of God.  The divine presence is too great, too holy, too pure for a mere human to see.

 

That is the background that makes sense of the disciples’ actions on the day in which Jesus was transfigured.  Here they were on the mountaintop with Jesus.  They were watching as he prayed, and they noticed that his face began to shine like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.  Then suddenly Moses and Elijah, representatives of the Old Testament law and prophets, men who had long ago departed the earth, appeared.  And Jesus sat there chatting with them, visiting as if they were old friends.

 

Now think about that for a moment.  The man they have been following, listening to, trusting in starts to glow like a light bulb.  Then two long-dead leaders show up as if for tea.  And yet what does Peter say, “This is cool.  Let’s pitch some tents so we can stay a while.” 

 

Does that seem right to you?  Of course not.  Something more is happening.  So suddenly the voice of God comes thundering from a bright cloud, a symbol of the divine presence, and he is speaking not to Jesus, Moses and Elijah but to Peter, James and John.  “This is my beloved Son,” God says. “In him I am well pleased.  Listen to him.”  And with that, Peter, James and John fall to the ground in fear.  Suddenly they realize they are in the divine presence.  Suddenly they realize that they should be afraid—very, very afraid.  

   

But to their surprise, rather than the wrath of God, they feel a gentle touch on the shoulder.  Jesus has come to them and touched them.  And he says to them, “Get up and do not be afraid.”  And when they look up the cloud is gone, Moses and Elijah are gone.  All that remains is Jesus. And because Jesus is who he is—God’s beloved Son—and because Jesus stands between the disciples and God, they can now rise to their feet, lift up their eyes and let go of their fear. 

 

Jesus’ presence means they don’t need to fear God’s presence.

 

And it has been so ever since.  The presence of Jesus in our lives removes any fear we may have of being in God’s presence.

 

We see that in the life of the early church.  Suddenly people who were supposed to fear God didn’t.

           

People, like Peter, who knew they were a sinner unworthy to stand before a holy God began to rejoice in God’s presence, seeking it constantly in prayer and worship.

 

People, like the Apostle Paul, who had spent a lifetime striving to fulfill the Old Testament law, people who had thought of God as only available in the Temple, people who just knew they needed to be righteous on their own accord, began to experience God in the new community of faith, in the word preached and the bread shared, in the forgiveness offered through Christ.

 

People whose lives had separated them from God, people like prostitutes and tax collectors, shepherds and lepers, began to seek out the presence of God, confident that they were no longer under judgment but under grace.

 

People who had heard the prophets of old rail about the coming Day of the Lord, the coming judgment in which God would punish all who sinned, suddenly began to look forward to the Day of the Lord as a day in which they would dwell forever with God.

 

Where once they feared the God, now they adored him.  The difference was Jesus, whose presence took their fear away.

A friend of mine says that he can remember as a very small child when his mother had to teach him to be afraid of the traffic in the street in front of his house. "The street is a dangerous place. You're not even to think about crossing the street without first asking me for permission. You're not to cross the street unless I am holding your hand. The street and the cars in it are very dangerous," his mother had to teach him.

 

But then he grew older, eventually he was given permission to venture across the street on his own. He lost that childhood terror of the bad things that might happen to him while crossing to the other side.

The other day my friend, who is soon to turn fifty, said, "One thing I have found out later in life. My mother was right. Most of the bad things that happen to you in life happen while you are crossing over to the other side. A lot of pain could be avoided in this life if we only followed the simple rule - don't cross the street unless you are holding somebody else's hand."

 

When I read this amazing story about the transformation, I don’t get caught up in the cloud, or Moses and Elijah, I don’t even get too worked up over the voice from the heavens.  There’s so much more to faith than what I understand that understanding this event isn’t all that important to me. 

 

But what I don’t understand does make me nervous, be it flying monkeys or a holy God.  And so every time I fall on my face in fear like Peter, James and John, every time I’m afraid to look up, the touch of Jesus, and the words, “Get up and do not be afraid,” these words put me back into the game of life. 

 

For some this story is called a transfiguration.  For me, it’s a transformation.

 

And once more I am transformed from fear to faith, from cowardice to courage.  “Get up and do not be afraid.”  Jesus’ is the hand I hold crossing the street of life. 

 

Will you pray with me now?


St. Andrew Presbyterian Church, Groton , CT

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