Seeing, Listening and Believing

Second Sunday of Lent (A): Matthew 17:1-9

The Gospel reading for the second Sunday of Lent has traditionally been the account of the Transfiguration. It is fascinating to read commentaries written by Biblical scholars on this Gospel reading. Some scholars from some faith traditions twist themselves in exegetical knots trying to relate a story that no one can take literally (so they say) to the experience of contemporary Christians. If one can’t prove it scientifically, or relate to it experientially, what does one do with it (so they ask)? These same scholars also struggle with the Resurrection of Jesus, for the same reasons. And not only some Biblical scholars. Nicholas Kristof, a columnist for the New York Times, writes here of a conversation he had with Rev. Timothy Keller over whether he (Kristof) is really a Christian. One of Kristof’s stumbling points was a belief in the Resurrection of Jesus.  He would have similar objections to the account of the Transfiguration, no doubt.

The difficulty here lies, at least in part, in how we think of science and faith. Our culture usually views people of faith as far too credulous, believing in things that cannot be proven – whereas, our culture sees itself as based on science and firmly founded on fact. 

But is this really the case?

We all feel some familiarity with science. We took science classes in school. We dissected frogs and fetal pigs, did simple chemistry and physics experiments, and dutifully recorded the results. We read about the latest discoveries and theories of scientists in every field of study.

However, few of us are actually scientists. We cannot prove most scientific theories on our own. Moreover, we have never seen a black hole, an atom, or the quantum world. We have never touched dark matter. We have never experienced the effects of Einstein’s theories of relativity. If we haven’t proven them scientifically, or experienced them, how then do we accept them?

By faith.

We have chosen to put our faith in the basic integrity of the scientific method, and in scientists as a whole. We have chosen to believe that scientists are honestly trying to discover the truth about the universe around us. We accept the testimony of scientists on faith.

If that is the case, why, then, do so many people have a hard time accepting the testimony of the Gospel writers, or other Biblical authors? Why do people reject the testimony of the Church as insufficient, when they will accept the testimony of scientists on faith? Do not the apostles, martyrs, and saints of every age give us sufficient proof of their integrity?

The answer is clearer than we would like to think. Quite simple, in fact. We can safely argue about the existence of dark matter. We can safely speculate about the existence of life on other planets. We can even argue about which side of the global warming dispute has the best scientific evidence behind it. But whatever conclusion we come to in any of these areas will not affect how we live our daily lives. It will not tell us whether we should (or shouldn’t) steal from work, lie to a friend, or cheat on a spouse. It will not challenge us to put faith in Someone who has the authority to teach and challenge us. So, people say that we can’t accept things merely on faith – even though everyone does just that, and all the time.  In fact, none of us could live very well, either as individuals or as a society, without faith and trust in one another and, ultimately, in God.

Having done that little tangent, let’s focus specifically on the Transfiguration account as such.

Strangely enough, the Lectionary omits from the Gospel reading the very first phrase in Matthew 17:1 – “After six days”. This detail is important, because Matthew rarely gives us a time reference like this in his Gospel outside of the Passion story. “After six days” – this is the seventh day after Jesus asked his disciples who they believed he was, and Peter responded, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God!” But the seventh day is also the sabbath. It is the day when people of faith “rest” from their usual activities so that they can then focus on the ultimate activity of the worship of God. It is through worship that we proclaim who God is, and that we experience God’s presence in a uniquely powerful way. The Transfiguration is primarily a sabbath experience, one not only for Peter, James and John, but for everyone who comes to the liturgy.

Jesus takes Peter, James and John up a high mountain. Matthew doesn’t tell us which mountain it is; its literal location is unimportant. Think of an experience of standing on the summit of a mountain. If it’s a clear day, you see a much wider panorama of the world around you than you could at a lower altitude. You see better how the geography of the area is laid out, how things relate to one another. It’s a place to view things as they really are. You are also, symbolically, closer to God. The mountain is the place where God and humanity meet. Think of Abraham on Mount Moriah, Noah on Mount Ararat, or Moses on Mount Sinai. Peter, James and John know that Jesus has led them here for some important reason. After all, Jesus preached the Sermon on the Mount from a mountain, and chose the Twelve on a mountain. But they do not yet know why they are there.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, things change before their eyes. Jesus’ face begins to shine like the sun, and his clothes become an impossibly brilliant white. Moses’ face shone for a time after he encountered God on Mount Sinai, but it was a reflected glory, and it soon faded. Jesus’ light comes from within and is his. It reminds us of the description of Jesus and of the New Jerusalem near the end of the Book of Revelation. Peter, James and John are being given insight into who Jesus is, and into their own destiny as his disciples. The same thing is offered to us at the Mass.

Then, Moses and Elijah appear with Jesus. Moses, the dominant figure of the Old Testament, points to the continuity of Jesus with the faith, life and traditions of Israel. Jesus has come to fulfill, that is, to reveal the fullest meaning of, the Law of Moses. Elijah was seen as the greatest of the prophets, though he left no book to be added to the Hebrew Scriptures. More importantly, Elijah points to the future. Later prophets promised that Elijah would return before the coming of the “Day of the Lord”. God is about to fulfill all his promises. But how? And in whom?

A cloud comes. The three disciples are terrified. They know that the cloud represents the presence of the Lord, the One whom no one could look upon and live. Then they hear a voice – “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” The same words that were heard at the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan River. The Father affirms that Moses and Elijah point to Jesus – that Jesus is the one through whom the Father will fulfill every one of his promises to his people. Moreover, even though we all call God Father, only Jesus is truly and fully the Son. Only he is of the same essence as the Father and the Spirit. “Listen to him.”

The disciples need this, as they don’t yet get it. Peter offers to build three tents there – one each for Jesus, Moses and Elijah. While the Israelites wandered through the desert with Moses, the Ark of the Covenant – the symbol of God’s presence with his people – was in a tent, among the people’s tents. So, Peter, in making his suggestion, was saying (whether he realized it or not) that all three were equal bearers of God’s presence. As close to the Lord as Moses and Elijah were, this wasn’t the case. They see Jesus alone, and the Father tells them to listen to Jesus. Jesus is the true tabernacle, the true tent of God’s presence with us. As John’s Gospel states, “the Word was made flesh, and pitched his tent among us” (John 1:14, literally translated).  In the liturgy, we hear of the stories of the people of Israel and the teachings of the apostles, especially Paul. But we read the Gospel last, as it is Jesus who fully reveals both God and humanity to us. Jesus is also the true mountain, then. He is the meeting place of God and humanity. From him, as the Word through whom all things were made, we see all of creation “from on high”, so to speak. We get a glimpse of how it fits together – that it only fits together in Christ.

The disciples are still afraid. This is appropriate in the presence of God. Sometimes, I wonder if our insistence on the love of God for us – as true as it is – has made us a bit too comfortable with God. We forget that true love makes demands – sometimes terrible demands – on anyone who professes it. We forget how these demands feel so far beyond our power to meet. How can we possibly love as God loves? Who can be sinless before God? Who can claim to deserve any goodness from God? Aren’t we all found wanting in that brilliance?

But Jesus comes forward and touches the disciples, saying “Rise, and do not be afraid”. The same One who is the very brilliance of God is also one of us, who meets us in our fear and weakness and touches us. We, too, are touched by Jesus in the liturgy – mainly in the sacraments. Baptism – that touch of water –  assures us that God has welcomed us into his holy people. Confirmation – that touch of oil –  assures us of the gift of the Holy Spirit, who will give us wisdom, compassion, perseverance and courage. The Eucharist – that touch of bread and wine – assures us that Jesus himself, in the appearance of bread and wine, is the very food for our journey of faith. Reconciliation – the touch of the prayer of absolution – assures us that, if we have repented and turned from our sins, God indeed forgives us. Anointing of the Sick – with that double touch of oil – assures us that the healing presence of the Spirit is at work even in our weakened bodies and spirits, transforming them into temples of his glory, resembling in a small way what the disciples saw at the Transfiguration. Marriage – the touch of the spouses and their pledge to one another in faith – assures couples that, in spite of their own limitations and the unknown challenges that await them, that Christ also pledges himself to them, so that they might truly be a ‘sacrament’ of Christ’s love for the Church. Holy Orders – through the touch of oil and the imposition of hands – assures those who are called, however unworthy they may feel, that their ministry will be enabled by the power of the Holy Spirit in them and their identification with the self-emptying Christ.

Going to the liturgy, having the reality of Christ revealed to us, and being touched by him, we then can go forth, “down the mountain”, and live our lives of faith. We are thus assured of the presence of the Lord, and given signs of his mercy and power among us. The Lord’s Transfiguration is meant to encourage us to listen to him, to open ourselves to him, and to believe in his words. We become the transfigured ones – slowly, ever so slowly – until the day we all shall see that glory face to face.