The Epiphany Season is one of wonder and mystery, and in many respects, the Transfiguration is the crown of this wonderful season. Jesus leading Peter, James, and John up the mountain “Six days later,” places us in a context of holiness established on the seventh day of creation when God looked upon the universe and rested after pronouncing, “It is very good.” This theopany, this manifestation of God, this experience with the holy is one of the stakes upon which the Christian calendar is planted. Like Easter, Pentecost, and Christmas, Transfiguration has its own Sunday because of its importance in helping us experience and point to the mystery of God. We even point to this moment during our Christmas Eve service when we sing Silent Night.
“Silent night, holy night,
Son of God, love’s pure light,
radiant beams from thy holy face,
with the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord at thy birth. Jesus, Lord at thy birth.”
Jesus’ transfiguration is a thin place because it is a place where the line between the human and divine is soft, porous, and permeable. It is both tangible and filled with mystery. It looks to the past, but reveals the future glory of a kingdom beginning to break forth upon the world. It looks to the past in the sense that in this moment with Jesus and his disciples we experience a retelling of the Epiphany stories.
Epiphany began with the Wise Men following a star, a mysterious guide leading them to the Christ child, and when they arrive they don’t look for answers, they simply worship. It is the mystery of the Bethlehem star and the mystery Jesus’ face shining like the sun. The next Sunday we read that Jesus was baptized by John in the River Jordan and when Jesus came up out of the water, the Spirit descended upon him and a voice from heaven proclaimed, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” A cloud descends upon the disciples from which a voice sounded, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him!”
The next Sunday, after Jesus leaves John and the Jordan behind he calls his first disciples, Peter, James, and John and they drop their nets and follow him from the sea to the mountain where they are thrown into fear from an overshadowing cloud and disembodied voice.
The next week, walking past the Sea of Galilee, with his newly found community, Jesus ascends a mountain and begins to reveal the kingdom of heaven—“Blessed are the poor, Blessed are the meek, Blessed are the peacemakers.” Today Jesus reveals the kingdom, not with words, but with glory and mystery.
The story continues with the next reading. Jesus teaches the following crowds saying, “You have heard it said, but I say unto you,” renarrating the law with prophetic imagination. Today he stands between Elijah and Moses and the Law and the Prophets come together to worship Christ.
This story comes together with such power and conviction Peter knows only to commemorate this mystery with three dwelling places, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah, and who can blame him? When we come face to face with mystery, with an unknown experience we like to make it tangible and concrete whether through plaques on a wall or traditions written in stone, but the voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him!” and Jesus did not command for shrines to be built. When the cloud dissipates Jesus is alone, picks them up out of their fear and commands them, “Don’t tell anyone about the vision.”
There are some things too beautiful and mysterious for words, and when we find beauty beyond human speech our role is to simply point to the glory we see. Like a docent in a museum. We could describe Michelangelo’s David using technical terms, we could talk about how the marble was formed deep within the earth, or we can simply point to its beauty.
For example, take a look at “The Banjo Lesson” by Henry Tanner.
There’s lots of things we could say about this painting; the renarration of the banjo from racist image to one of beauty, the light dancing about the room, the old man teaching the young man, the communion elements in the background arranged as if they are being presented on an altar. We could talk about all of these things, or we can simply point to its beauty. This week, let us be the windows of the sanctuary, allowing the light to shine through us, illuminating the beauty of God’s story. Amen.