Göttinger Predigten im Internet
ed. by U. Nembach, J. Neukirch

THE TRANSFIGURATION OF OUR LORD, February 6, 2005
A Sermon on Matthew 17:1-9 (RCL) by David Zersen

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After six days, Jesus took with him Peter, James and John the brother of James, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light. Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus. Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, a bright cloud enveloped them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell face down to the ground, terrified. But Jesus came and touched them. “Get up,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.” When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus instructed them, “Don’t tell anyone what you have seen, until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” (NIV)

ALWAYS CHECK YOUR CREDENTIALS

There are some portions of the Bible that strike us as so incredulous that we don’t know what to do with them. The Transfiguration story in today’s text is such a story, and scholars have argued about its meaning for centuries. Two years ago, however, I had an experience, which gave me a context for this story, and since that time I am willing to confront it more enthusiastically. I was on a father/son trip in Romania. On this particular day, we were driving high up into the Carpathian Mountains. We reached a place above the tree line in the land of ice and snow. As we hiked along a trail, we came to a lake fed by a glacier. There was a little peninsula stretching out into the lake. My son and two of our companions, a Lutheran pastor from Hungary, Andras Csepregi, and a Lutheran pastor from Romania, Josef Zelenek, walked out onto this peninsula. I stayed behind to take a picture of them in this stunning setting. As I took several pictures, something remarkable happened. A cloud moved into their space and almost completely enshrouded them so that I could hardly see them. As the cloud moved away, I said, “this was almost like the Transfiguration story! Which one of you is Moses and which is Elijah?” We laughed and moved on.

The story gets better. Toward the end of that journey with my son, we flew home through London on British Air. Because we had a six-hour layover, we took the opportunity to run around in London for several hours. We walked our legs off, looking at many "touristy" sites which both of us had seen before, as well as checking out some new ones. I took many pictures, including some of Buckingham Palace and some other recognizable shrines for those who also have visited London.

When I got home, I had the pictures developed and I was amazed at the results. There was a picture of Buckingham Palace, and in the clouds above it, you could see the three men from the Transfiguration scene in Romania! There were similar pictures of other historic sites, always including the same men in the cloud! How could this have happened? I racked my brain? Could I have used the same film cassette twice? Did the camera store develop one roll on top of another? I still don’t know the answer, but I am charmed by the mystery of it all, a mystery which escorts us right into the events at the Transfiguration scene. What was going on here? What did all this mean? Many scholars have called this a displaced Resurrection appearance narrative and others have called it a parousia story, a foreshadowing of the Son of Man who will return at the end of the world. Based on my own mysterious experience with threesomes in clouds, I’m willing to grant that some things deserve to remain unexplainable, although I do think Matthew intends some practical points of which we ought to make sense. Perhaps we can allow some grandeur and mystery to remain even as we sort out a few life-related details.

Matthew’s Context Gives Some Clues about Meaning

Many interpreters, not being sure what to do with this story, run right past it to the next story about the healing of an epileptic boy. They make the point that Jesus did not linger in the transfigured glory because he was called to serve. Such an oft-used approach ignores the text before us, however. Others play with Peter’s seemingly dumbfounded astonishment and look for counterparts in believer’s lives today when they want to build three tents or do something equally unnecessary instead of doing the sensible things for which spiritual encounters call.

Matthew’s context, however, helps us to understand what he intends to have this story mean to us. In the previous story, he tells that Jesus takes the disciples to Caeserea Philippi, a city in the Gentile north, far removed from his typical area of ministry in Galilee. Here he does a check with them as to their understanding of his credentials. We well remember Peter’s confession of Jesus as Messiah and Jesus’

affirmation of Peter as the rock on whose faith he will build his church. In this story, Jesus takes his disciples to a mountain, traditionally Mt. Tabor, but surely more likely Mt. Hermon. Although Tabor is closer to his area of ministry, it had a fortress on top and would be an unlikely setting for this story. Hermon, typically snow-capped and the source of water for Galilee, would have been north of the previous setting at Caeserea Philippi. It would have been a continuation of Jesus’ own pursuit of retreat and reflection as he sought to confirm his astonishing mission at Jerusalem. Matthew wants us to understand that in this setting, the greatest representative of the Law, Moses, and of the prophets, Elijah, appear to confirm Jesus’ messianic role. They who in the tradition never really died, and who are expected again before the Messiah’s return, now appear to assure Jesus of his intended course of action. Additionally, the words first spoken at Jesus’ baptism are heard here again, telling those who read this story that Jesus’ messianic role is beyond question. He is, after all, the beloved Son.

Matthew’s Meaning Helps Us to Check Our Credentials

The context in which Matthew places his story helps us to check our own credentials as we move forward in life. We are challenged at many place in our responsibilities to determine how we know that what we are being asked to do is ethical, moral, or in keeping with whose we are and want to be. Occasionally, we hear from leadership, political as well as business, that the buck stops with them, and they alone will be held accountable for their decisions. Sometimes, Congresses and colleagues don’t do enough to challenge such decisions and, as a result, all are forced to live with the consequences for years to come. Matthew wants to show us that Jesus models for us here a responsible approach to leadership in which he tests the views of those around him at Caeserea Philippi, and confers with his religious tradition and the will of God at Mt. Hermon. He does this before he moves down the road of the suffering servant toward the cross. And he shows us that Jesus seeks such affirmation in retreat-like settings in which he gets out of the roar of the crowd so that he can consult his sources and make his reflections in peace.

In the midst of our busy lives, I wonder whether you have found the place which is your get-away retreat, and whether you regularly take the time to check your credentials for making your next steps which will affect not only you but also your families and colleagues. We live in a society which has taken enormous precaution to check the credentials of travelers because we have discovered that some people want to move ahead with personal and, at times, violent decision-making without consulting the judgement of peers. ID checks and passport checks, laptop checks and shoe checks, pocketknife checks and checks of unknown liquid substances demonstrate the carefulness with which airport security officers now proceed. You and I may not be terrorists, nor may we have evil inclinations, but we do make many decisions that should be carefully considered because of all the people with whom our lives come into contact. We need to have places and times when we lift up our choices with friends or to those who have gone before us in our faith. For that matter, we need to be people of prayer, for that’s what prayer is all about—people who invite God to consider with us the actions we are about to take.

As I think about it, in my adult life I have sometimes lived in homes I didn’t like because there was no place of retreat I could call my own. In one house, I had only a workshop in a basement, unheated in the winter, where I could sometimes get away and reflect on things. Sometimes vacations serve such functions for us. Sometimes an evening alone reading, a quiet drive in the country, a visit to a sanctuary during a lunch hour give us the time we need to get away, to be alone with God and with our tradition.

I’m often interested in those who don’t want to be thought of as religious people, who want nothing to do with a tradition or a church because they prefer to be known as independent thinkers. Independent thinkers who do not consult a tradition or peers, however, can be dangerous people. None of us has the wisdom or insight to act without careful reflection—and that includes interaction with those from whom we receive our tradition. In the case of a Christian, we acknowledge that many who have come before us have wrestled with issues similar to our own. As we read the Bible, and commit many of its passages to memory, we allow those who have gone before us in the faith to challenge us, to encourage us, to inspire us. Without their faith touching our own, we too often stumble across a desert, sometimes leading others in our path, with no oasis in sight.

Many of us know the American classic by Thornton Wilder, Our Town, and we sometimes ask ourselves, in seeing it again, why in the world this became a classic. The first act deals with common trivia in Grover’s Corners, New Hampshire, at the beginning of the last century, when people do ordinary things like all of us do every day. The second act lumbers on as Emily Webb and George Gibbs get married, and live life as we have known it in all its sometimes boring simplicity. Little time is taken for reflection, pondering, altering direction, and charting new paths. In the third act, Emily dies. Watching her husband grieving, she wishes she could go back again. Her wish is granted and she returns on her birthday. As she watches the proceedings in the family left behind, she realizes how mundane and self-understood everything is. She wishes her mother would have talked to her more, that people would pause to reflect on how precious life is. But nothing changes. Life goes on, and Emily returns to the cemetery, aware of how precious each moment in life can be, how opportunities are always knocking at doors that no one opens. We are left wondering with her how our lives might be different if we took the time to consult our sources, to check our credentials, to ask whether we are ready to be moving ahead without more input or affirmation.

Matthew does us a great service by giving us a context for his story of the Transfiguration. Of course, there is mystery and symbol in this story, and we may never know for sure who really saw what, and what kind of visual splendor may have been revealed to whom. We are, however, assured that the same God who entrusted our spiritual ancestors with countless insights and who invited Jesus to share intimacy, emboldens us now to seek his guidance in all the upsetting or opportune moments in life. His grace provides our strongest credentials and we don’t want to make a move without remembering whose we are because of Jesus’ death and resurrection for us. His love holds us firm as we wonder how best to proceed and encourages us to seek his will and way in the words of the Scripture. At times, our daily routines may seem to make life perfunctory and plebian, but when we step back from them to reflect and consider in prayer, we too may be overwhelmed by the glory which can be seen as new perspectives or greater vision transfigure even us.

Prof. Dr. Dr. David Zersen, President Emeritus
Concordia University at Austin
Austin , Texas
djzersen@aol.com

 


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