The disciples in the Gospel reading today were invited by Jesus to join him for something that they did not know would turn into such an amazing event. Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and went up to the mountain to pray. And then, while Jesus was praying, he was transformed before them, shining with a glorious brightness. And then, suddenly two other men appeared, and those men spoke with Jesus about his imminent exit from this world, and what he was about to accomplish in Jerusalem. Thes disciples recognized these two men as Moses and Elijah.
Moses: the man who had first brought down the law of God from Mount Sinai, the covenant for God’s people.
Elijah: the prophet of God who had spoken out against the wickedness of God’s people, and called the people to repentance and a return to God’s Law. He defended the worship of the God of Israel over all the false Gods that the people had turned to. He confronted them with their idolatry, and pointed them in the direction of God. Elijah was so well regarded in Jewish culture, that the return of Elijah was seen as a sign of the coming of the Messiah.
And these three men were privy to that event. They saw Moses, and they saw Elijah, and they saw Jesus – God’s chosen. The Messiah. The Savior of Israel.
Imagine that incredible sight. The eternal glory of God manifested in this world. I’m sure if we saw a similar sight, we would be just as confused as the three of them. Awestruck and dumbfounded.
And Peter, “not knowing what he said,” as both Moses and Elijah were leaving Jesus, turned to him and said, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”
Every time I read this, I think to myself: “Really, Peter? What are you thinking?”
And it’s exactly what Peter was thinking that makes this passage so interesting. You see, the dwelling spaces that he wanted to build were temporary shelters like the Israelites used while wandering around the desert for 40 years. The dwellings they used after they had been released from slavery in Egypt by the mighty hand of God, working through Moses. And so Peter was acknowledging that he was in the presence of God, and wanted to build these temporary shelters so that he and the other disciples could all sit and rest in the Glory of God like their ancestors did.
But that’s not the only symbolism in this passage. You see, Moses had gone up a mountain – Mount Sinai – and the presence of God had descended in a cloud, and a voice from heaven spoke to Moses. And when he returned to the people, his face was shining with the glory of God.
All of which happens – again – today, with the disciples. As Peter was saying that he would build these temporary dwelling spaces, a cloud descended from heaven, and the voice of God spoke, saying, “This is my son, my chosen one. Listen to him!” The voice interrupted Peter, because he was confused, he was afraid, and he didn’t know what else to say.
For the listeners of the Gospel, this would have been very clear symbolism: Jesus is the new Moses. He will liberate you, he will set you free from your slavery to sin and death, he will be the author of a new exodus from bondage into abundant life. This was an epiphany. This was God made manifest, and made real to us in this life. It shows not so much that Jesus has been changed – but that the image of Jesus – the understanding of who Jesus is – has changed for all those who witness his work. Who Jesus is has changed for the disciples – it is a revelation that shifts our understanding.
It is a message of hope. It is not just about the revelation of God in the person of Jesus, the Messiah, but it is also a message of all the possibilities that we might experience as children of God, once we have seen the glory of Christ.
This message of hope is what St. Paul is touching on in today’s epistle reading. “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.”
From one glory to another. That is, from one revelation of Christ to another. From one epiphany to another. From one encounter with the divine spirit to yet another encounter. We are transformed, shaped, molded into the image of Christ, slowly but surely, as the Spirit of God gives us insight into what needs to change, and how that change can happen.
And the voice from heaven said, “This is my son, my chosen one. Listen to him!”
Which leads us to the question: how do we listen? What helps us to hear God?
Years ago, I was also on a mountain, early in the morning, sitting on the patio at a temporary housing situation. The rain was pouring down, and clouds had descended in the form of a thick fog. I was angry. I was tired. Some of my anger was because people I thought I knew well had betrayed me and broken my trust. Some of my anger was at things that, sadly, were problems I had created for myself. But I had moved from a bad situation into a temporary setting for a few months, in order to get away from all the distractions in my life that were causing me this misery.
And in that early morning fog, God spoke, and said, “Hey, Now that you’ve removed yourself from all these distractions, I have some things I want to show you.” I grabbed a pen and notebook, and I didn’t stop writing for about five days – as I had time, of course, among my other daily responsibilities – and in the end I had about fifty five pages of notes. All of which was God revealing to me how I had gotten myself into this mess in the first place.
Distractions keep us from hearing God. Distractions can be anything: people, desires, bad habits. Even good habits can sometimes distract us from pausing to listen. And, shocker, even church can be a distraction, because we can become so entrenched in doing “good things” that we forget to stop and rest a while; we become so focused on all that we are doing that we forget who we are, we forget who God is, and we distract ourselves with our own pious work.
But distractions are not the only culprit.
As I continued in my temporary space, I would run across people and situations, and God would say, “Hey. Remember what you wrote in your notebook? Here you are doing all of these things over again.” Then a pause… “Would you like to work on changing that now?”
And me, in all my wisdom, would say, “LA LA LA. Can’t Hear You!” <hands over ears>
One day, a friend and I were sitting on the porch of this house, and I mentioned this predicament. Even though I had written things down, and had a roadmap for change, I didn’t want to listen. They asked why. And I had to admit it was because I was afraid.
When God had revealed all these things to me that I put in that notebook – in that roadmap of transformation of a sort – I had also been blessed with a vision of my future self. I knew it was me, but I couldn’t recognize myself; I couldn’t reconcile this future image of myself with my current reality. And the questions started to pile up: Who would I be? What would I have to give up? What would I need to start doing differently? If I couldn’t know the answers to all of these things, why would I want to even start following that roadmap? It’s like driving in the dark without headlights. Scary.
Fear can be a powerful motivator. But fear can also be a powerful deterrent – and keep us from necessary change. Fear can confuse us, so that we, like Peter, don’t know what we are saying, and don’t know how to react. Or, more importantly, we do not act.
And the antidote to fear is trust. Trust is the solidifying of faith over time. And “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
There is a story of a father and his young son who have gone on a hike, and discovered that they had lost their way. They were standing on a small precipice, and it looked like they could go no further. But the father turned to his son, and said, “Wait here,” and then disappeared over some rocks. A few minutes later, the boy could hear his father calling him. “Where are you, dad?” the boy asked. “Down here, son. I need you to jump,” the father said. “But dad,” the boy protested, “I’m scared. I can’t see you.” To which the father replied, “That’s okay, son. I can see you.” And the boy jumped. Right into his father’s arms. This is faith. And this is trust.
The most repeated phrase in the Bible – in some form or another – is “Do not be afraid.”
And so, if we have removed the distractions from our lives; and if we have listened to the words of God; and if we have taken these moments of divine clarity, these moments of the revelation of God’s glory and grace to heart; and if we trust in the mercy and love of God, then we will indeed be transformed into the likeness of Christ from one moment of glory to the other.
Personally, I can attest to that. As I now stand in the place of that vision I had so many moons ago, as if I am looking back from that future moment upon the man on the porch. And I barely recognize him. Just as he was unable to reconcile that future vision with his own present reality. It took trust that God would bring about that change, and that this change would be for the best.
There’s a reason this passage is always read on the last Sunday before Lent. It’s because this moment of witness to Jesus’ transfiguration on the mountain is more than just a revelation of God’s power, and more than just a revelation of the divine nature of Jesus and a foreshadowing of Jesus’ work of salvation.
It is also a foreshadowing of the mighty transformation we can expect God to enact in our own lives, from one moment of glory to the next.
But we must remember, that while we are the beneficiaries of this grace of transformation and that this transformation happens in our own lives – it is not just meant for us alone. We are transformed into the image of Christ, from glory to glory, because we are in a community of believers. And those other believers both help to shape us, and help to guide us. Our transformation is not just about making our own lives better, but enabling our community of believers to better express the Good News of Christ to the rest of the world. We are transformed not just because God wants to make us better, but so that we can help to make the world better.
And so, as we enter into the time of Lent, I ask you to consider those things that might distract you from hearing God’s voice; to contemplate on what you hear God saying; and ultimately to put your trust in God, that the same God who began a good work in you, will carry it out to completion, until the day of Christ.
[This sermon was delivered at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Wickenburg, AZ on March 2, 2025.]
