Last Sunday after Epiphany - Transfiguration

I recently attended training on restorative practices – which is about making and building peace and justice with one another and across the world – and one of the sessions explored our emotions and how they are reflected on our faces. 

We were shown facial expressions of different shades of emotions, from sadness to grief and lamentation, pain and suffering, of shame and guilt, betrayal, embarrassment and also joy, hope, love and amazement – and so on.  Our eyes pick up the nuances and shifts in muscles, with the eyes, and with our body language. 

We respond strongly, when the emotion is clearly ‘written’ on other people’s faces.  It’s one of the reasons why we struggle with partially covered faces; why it was so hard during covid when we all wore masks and we became less certain about what people were thinking, not simply what they were saying. 

You know about this non-verbal connection from watching children and babies as emotions are unfiltered and experiences are clearly visible on their faces.  I have a powerful memory of a small boy, standing by the front door after his dad had left for work, shoulders drooped, face looking down, holding a toy, and the desolation of the loss of his presence and the long wait till his father came home at the end of the day. The length of time without him was unimaginably long for this small boy and he was transfigured with joy when he heard his father at the front gate when he came home later.

Jesus was transfigured, unmistakeably, clearly and profoundly in his encounter at the top of the mountain with God, and with his disciples, Peter, James and John.’ His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.’ (Matt. 17:2)  God declares God’s love and opens up God’s presence to God’s Son, saying ‘This is my Son, my Beloved, with who I am well pleased.’ (2 Peter 1.17) 

However, after hearing God’s words, the disciples collapsed with fear, but Jesus touched them, comforted them and reassured them.  They were able to believe all would be well, as they looked at Jesus’ face, restored to the beloved familiar as love reminded them they were safe.

he Holy Spirit reveals God’s glory to those who are watching, as this loving, intimate, unique relationship between God and child is stated clearly and simply without limits, and we are urged to be attentive to this, as it is described as being a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts. (2 Peter 1:19)

The morning star rising in our hearts lifts our faces, bodies, minds and our spirits in God’s presence, transfiguring our souls so we are singing with joy in words too profound to speak, and we are joyful with love and hope.  The Holy Spirit moves us, as she does with all people who listen, wait, and live faithful lives as God speaks to us, God is in relationship forever with us. God faces us and sees us and knows us.

The love God poured into Jesus spills into our hearts and minds, as we watch and wait for God’s light to shine everywhere, not just on mountaintops, not just with a few friends, but with all people who have turned to God. Jesus came down the mountainside and into the valleys and is asked to heal a boy suffering with epilepsy, whom his disciples had been unable to help. Jesus was straight back into real life, into places where people have no where to turn, little hope and no one to make a difference, alongside, listening and restoring.

But here’s the critical thing to remember as we seek to hold onto such transfiguring, life-changing experiences: it cannot and must not become disconnected from the suffering and struggles Jesus talked about throughout his ministry, and he speaks with absolute conviction from his own experience. 

He knows he is walking to the cross and this is the ending of his life.  He had spoken about his crucifixion and death only six days earlier, before the trek up the mountain and so the two experiences are truly connected in Jesus’ life and in our lives and deaths. Jesus tells his disciples not to tell anyone about the transfiguration until the resurrection, because glory’s meaning only emerges through the crucifixion, his and ours.

For communities organising these days against homelessness, hunger and immigrant, racist discrimination and harassment, genocide and invasion, massacres and hostage taking, Christian nationalism and white supremacy, against economic poverty and autocratic obscene wealth extraction from the least of God’s people, then this story of glory and transfiguration and the crucifixion is critical. 

We are being reminded of how God works in the world, and God’s promises, offered with sustaining, life changing visions, and so resourcing resistance without offering escape or wilful ignorance and betrayal.  We may fall down with fear, but we are comforted by God whether we are on the mountains or in the valleys.

We remember the transfigured Christ is the crucified Christ.  The two arms of the cross hold us together in tension, with love and faith, trusting God in the darkness as we experience the morning star in our hearts and live into the light.  

Both are critical for life and death, as to ignore the struggles and suffering of those around us and our own fear, and to focus only on the glory and celebration, absolutely betrays the gospel’s prophetic edge breaking down the darkness which we must not forget.    And so, the small boy who had to wait a whole day for his dad to return, learned about waiting, the feeling of desolation and being abandoned, and about trust and hope.  He learned and experienced joy and laughter.  He was transfigured with joy and he remembers the love holding him safe through the long day and in the years afterwards. 

Jesus has walked this journey before us, he is with us and he shares it each step of the way.  Let us remember these things as we journey with Christ during Lent.  Let us not turn away from this time with Christ and let us be his companions of the cross.    

The Lord be with you.