Matthew 17:1-9
1 Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his
brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. 2 And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like
the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. 3 Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking
with him. 4 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." 5 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!" 6 When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and
were overcome by fear. 7 But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Get up and do
not be afraid." 8 And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself
alone. 9 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."
A few years back,
Sallie and I (along with another couple of our friends) loaded up our car for a
trip out to the Mid-West. A college friend of ours was getting married in
Kansas, so we decided to make a road-trip vacation out of the drive. The four
of us left a couple of days before the weeding, because we were going to make a
stop in St. Louis, where we would meet up with another couple, spend a night or
two, then all six of us would head on to Kansas for the wedding.
I have to tell you, I really enjoyed our time in St.
Louis. It’s a great city, with all kinds of attractions. We stayed within
walking distance of Union Station, a former hub of transportation in the city,
which is now a grand museum/shopping center/all-around tourist attraction. We
visited the St. Louis Science center and just missed visiting the St. Louis Zoo
(one of the best zoos in the country as we came to find out). One couple went
to a Cardinals game at Busch Stadium, and we drove or walked past Edward Jones
Stadium (home of the St. Louis Rams) several times. Of course, when one is in
St. Louis one has to go visit the arch, and we did just and learned all about
the “gateway to the West.” We ate some great food while we were in St. Louis
too, but my favorite thing we did during our time there was visit the Cathedral
Basilica of St. Louis.
The Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis is not your typical
church—oh no. The grand, stone church is an imposing site with its green-tiled
roof, massive dome, and towering spires standing on either side of the grand
entrance, overlooked by an enormous rose window. The church was given the
designation of “basilica” by Pope John Paul II in 1997, and the Pope even
visited the church two years later.[1]
Inside is one of the largest collections of mosaics in the Western Hemisphere.
It’s truly a site to see. When we visited the church, I spent most of the time
with my head tilted back, amazed by all of the intricate work that went in to
crafting the mosaics that covered the ceilings. There were scenes from Scripture,
sparkling in bits of gold and blue and red. There were images of important
figures in the history of the church in shades of brown and green. I could have
spent hours in that place simply walking, gazing upward at all of the wonderful
art that adorned that sacred space, but I knew we wouldn’t spend long there.
When I felt like I might have been holding the others up,
I let my head slowly crane down, back to its normal, forward-facing position. I
was standing at the very front of the church, between the altar and the first
row of chairs, and I as I took one final look at that awe-inspiring interior of
sacred art, my eyes fell on one final scene that—in that moment—said more to me
than any of the others I had gazed upon in that place. It wasn’t, however, a
scene constructed of gold tiles or marble; it wasn’t a scene painted in the
brilliant colors of a fresco from the Renaissance. No, what I saw was in fact,
not what one might call art at all. You see, the Cathedral Basilica of St.
Louis is a massive building, a grand site that attracts tourists whether they
be Catholic, Protestant, or none of the above, but it first and foremost a
church. And there in that church, amidst dozens of tourist snapping pictures
with their cameras, amidst the frozen golden gazes of the saints, there in one
of the hard, wooden chapel chairs I saw a woman with her hands folded in her
lap, her headed tilted downward as if she were counting the cracks in the
floor—she was praying.
In a place where one might find it easy to be awestruck
by the magnificence of sacred art and holy decoration, in a place where one
could possibly get caught up in the grand images of faith, in a place where I
could stay for hours and marvel at the beauty of what my eyes could behold,
there, in that place, something far holier, far more precious, was unfolding.
One woman, created in God’s image, was praying, speaking with her God. I don’t
know what she was praying for or about. Perhaps she was simply doing what so
few of us do when we pray, listening. In that instance, I realized that while
it would have been wonderful to stay in that beautiful, sacred place for hours,
there was so much more to what God was doing outside of those stone walls. There
is more to what God does than simply what we can observe with our eyes.
In the passage of Holy Scripture we’ve read together
today, something grand, wonderful, and mysterious happens. Six days before this
scene on the mountain, though, Jesus told his disciples the truth about where
all of this was going to wind up. Matthew says in chapter 16, verse 21: “Jesus
began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great
suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be
killed, and on the third day be raised.” Peter (the one who always
seems to speak before he thinks in the gospels) tells Jesus this is never going
to happen, and Jesus rebukes Peter, even calls him Satan! Jesus tells of the
necessity of his followers’ self-denial, how if they wish to follow him they’ll
have to give themselves up, take up a cross, and follow him, presumably to
their own deaths. Then, six days later, the scene we’ve read here today takes
place.
Matthew tells
us: “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.”
Now try to see this in your mind’s eye as if you were Peter, James, or John: Jesus has taken you up a mountain (sounding a bit like Moses, which shouldn’t surprise any close reader of Matthew’s gospel)—just you and the other two, the rest of the disciples are presumably at the base of the mountain or out on a snack run. When you reach the top, suddenly, Jesus morphs right before your eyes: he’s no longer the dark-skinned, Near-Easterner that Hollywood never portrays; he’s no longer the man who’s walked with you on the shores of Lake Galilee or broke bread with you at the dinner table. Now he is transformed into this luminous, divine, person, with a solar powered complexion and clothes so bright they dazzle in the daylight. And is if that weren’t enough, Moses and Elijah (the embodied Law and Prophets) appear and the three of them strike up a conversation about only God knows what.
Now try to see this in your mind’s eye as if you were Peter, James, or John: Jesus has taken you up a mountain (sounding a bit like Moses, which shouldn’t surprise any close reader of Matthew’s gospel)—just you and the other two, the rest of the disciples are presumably at the base of the mountain or out on a snack run. When you reach the top, suddenly, Jesus morphs right before your eyes: he’s no longer the dark-skinned, Near-Easterner that Hollywood never portrays; he’s no longer the man who’s walked with you on the shores of Lake Galilee or broke bread with you at the dinner table. Now he is transformed into this luminous, divine, person, with a solar powered complexion and clothes so bright they dazzle in the daylight. And is if that weren’t enough, Moses and Elijah (the embodied Law and Prophets) appear and the three of them strike up a conversation about only God knows what.
What would you do? I mean, the man who just told
you he was going to die and rise again, the man you’ve seen feed thousands of
people from a kid’s sack lunch, has suddenly taken on an appearance that can
only be described as divine and he’s carrying on a conversation with two of the
biggest heroes of your faith and ancestral history as if he’s known them
forever. In a moment like that it would be easy to get caught up in what’s
happening right in front of you. In a moment like that perhaps you’d want time
to stand still just so you could be in the presence of these three men for as
long as possible. In a moment like that maybe you’d want to break out a quill
and parchment and start asking for autographs!
Well, Peter went
one better. 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." Peter doesn’t want autographs. He doesn’t want a picture
with the Son of Man and the two “saints of old.” No, Peter wants to build three
tabernacles, three chapels, one for each of them, so they can stay on the
mountain, so they can keep this holy happening going for as long as they all
can stand it. Peter says, “Lord, it is good for us to be HERE.” “It
is good for us to be on this mountain, in this moment, in the midst of all of
this great and wonderful holiness, in the midst of this spectacle….”
Then God cuts him off.
Right as Peter was professing
his desire to build the three dwellings for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, God
interrupts: there is a theophany in the midst of this Christophany. Matthew
tells us in verse 5: “While [Peter] 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!’" While Peter (and presumably
James and John as well) are enthralled by Jesus’ transfiguration, the voice of
God Almighty interrupts Peter’s grandstanding in order to tell him and those
with him to listen to Jesus. Peter wants to build monuments, commemorate the
moment, recognize the importance of what is taking place. Peter wants the visible
wonder of the transfiguration to endure; he never wants this “mountaintop
experience” to end, but God God’s-self shakes Peter out of such a self-involved
attempt at recognizing what is taking place on the mountain. And God does so
with a simple command: “Listen to him!”
Such a thunderous
interruption from the midst of this bright cloud instills such fear in the
three disciples that they seem to be petrified, incapable of standing on their
feet. It is only when they hear the familiar voice of Jesus say, "Get up and do not be afraid” that they rise to their feet and
descend down the mountain where Jesus invokes what we call the “messianic
secret” and instructs Peter, James, and John to tell no one about the vision
they encountered on the mountain. They had to come down from the mountain; they
had to face the reality of life on the ground; they had to leave behind any
thoughts about constructing tabernacles in an attempt to prolong their
spiritual high; they had to come down and listen to Jesus.
Friends, we have to come down
from the mountain. We have to face reality of life on the ground—the reality of
our lives and the lives of those around us. We have to leave behind any
thoughts about constructing our own boxes in which to keep the Almighty; we’ve
got to move beyond the memories of spiritual highs that keep us tethered to the
past. We have to listen to Jesus. Far too often, on days like this, we look
around and say, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.” We hear songs we like; we
see people we like; we get a feeling of joy and comfort, and so many of us want
to keep it going for ourselves, try to do whatever we can to keep the flame of
that feeling burning. We want to stay on the mountaintop. “Lord, it is good for
us to be here.”
But life is lived down from
the mountain. The call of Christ to “come and follow me” meets us on the
ground, not up in the clouds. To put this in perhaps more tangible, realistic
terms, while it is good for us to be here in this room on the Lord’s Day for
worship, while it is good for us to be here together to study Scripture and
pray together on Sunday and Wednesday evenings, while it is good for us to be
here in this place where we meet God, God is still interrupting our desire to
stay cloistered beneath steeples, hidden behind walls, and disguised by
doctrines. God is still telling us to listen to Jesus—and Jesus has an awful
lot to say to us.
Jesus is calling each and every one of us to step outside of what we feel is comfortable, to understand that there is more to faith than hunkering down in what you’ve always believed because it’s safe, familiar, and easily managed. Jesus is calling each and every one of us to undo this misguided notion that the only place to see the fullness of Christ is on a mountaintop, that the only way to have church is inside the four walls of a steepled building on Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, and Wednesday nights. Jesus is calling us to come follow him, and folks, Jesus ain’t always in the meeting house! He’s not always in the mountaintop. If Matthew’s telling of Jesus’ Transfiguration tells us anything, it’s this: while it may be good for us to be here—whether that’s in this room, in this time, or in your place of life—but Jesus isn’t calling us to stay here.
Let us pray…
Jesus is calling each and every one of us to step outside of what we feel is comfortable, to understand that there is more to faith than hunkering down in what you’ve always believed because it’s safe, familiar, and easily managed. Jesus is calling each and every one of us to undo this misguided notion that the only place to see the fullness of Christ is on a mountaintop, that the only way to have church is inside the four walls of a steepled building on Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, and Wednesday nights. Jesus is calling us to come follow him, and folks, Jesus ain’t always in the meeting house! He’s not always in the mountaintop. If Matthew’s telling of Jesus’ Transfiguration tells us anything, it’s this: while it may be good for us to be here—whether that’s in this room, in this time, or in your place of life—but Jesus isn’t calling us to stay here.
Let us pray…
[1]
You can find all the information about the Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis at
the website: http://cathedralstl.org/
