Transitioning from the season of Epiphany to Lent, this week we hear the story of Jesus’ transfiguration. In this mountaintop moment, the disciples glimpse Jesus’ true glory, a vision which will shape how the disciples will understand the events to come as Jesus is arrested, killed, and resurrected. These stories continue to shape how we encounter the world as people of faith. As Richard Lischer writes, “You can live a long time off a vision.”
The Scripture readings for this third Sunday after the Epiphany are 2 Peter 1:16-21; Psalm 2:1-8, and Matthew 17:1-9. This sermon draws heavily on Richard Lischer’s article Seeing with Clarity in The Christian Century for quote, overall theme, and the story of Julian of Norwich. I also found helpful this article on Substack from Liz Bucar.
Here’s the livestream from Living Hope and the sermon podcast audio:
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Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen
This is a momentous weekend: Not one, but two holidays in a row! Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, and today is Transfiguration Sunday.
One article said the economic impact of Valentine’s Day was expected to be a record $29.1 billion dollars. I couldn’t find anything about the economic impact of Transfiguration, and I did look.
Valentine’s Day is named for several Christian martyrs called Valentine, one of whom legend says may have secretly performed Christian weddings for couples in defiance of the Roman emperor. Most people focus more on the romantic love part than the martyrdom. I’m focusing today on Transfiguration, the much less popular holiday.
On Thursday, I led worship at two nursing homes, focusing on this story, and I told them Transfiguration is one of my favorite Bible stories because I love Peter’s excitement. He sees this miracle happening, and he starts almost babbling, trying to do something to hold onto this moment by building tents so they can all stay up there on the mountain.
It’s fun to imagine what it’d be like to be in this story, up there getting to glimpse Jesus’ glory, hearing God’s voice from a cloud, Jesus’ face shining.
If Jesus had a car, he’d have this license plate I saw on Friday: “I GLOW.” His face is shining, his robes are glowing; it’s an amazing image.
But at the same time, I’m not sure how helpful this story actually is for us. Richard Lischer notes some commentators actually describe the transfiguration story as “pointless.”
Jesus isn’t teaching any great moral wisdom here like we heard last week in the Sermon on the Mount; and he’s not really doing anything to help anyone else. Usually, we hear about Jesus healing people, casting out demons, even raising the dead.
Transfiguration isn’t an action so much as it’s a vision. But visions matter.
In the rhythms of the church year, Transfiguration turns us from Epiphany to Lent. This glimpse of Jesus’ glory frames everything that will come next as Jesus draws closer to the cross.
Lischer writes:
“The epiphany season that began with the twinkling of a star leading the Magi to Jesus ends in a blinding vision of him. Many of us don’t exactly know what to do with a vision. We are people of the ear, trained to distrust the eye. “Faith is an acoustical affair,’ says Martin Luther. ‘Stick your eyes in your ears,’ he said, and just believe.
Of course, Luther is following Paul, who says that ‘faith comes by hearing’ and asks [in Romans 10], ‘How are they to hear without a preacher?’
Transfiguration replies, ‘How are they to see without a vision?’”
On May 8, 1373, a priest was called to administer last rites to a young woman in Norwich, England, whom we remember as Julian of Norwich. After three days near death she’s unable to move, all feeling gone.
Lischer writes:
“Her mother is preparing to close her daughter’s eyes. The priest has seen this before: another tableau in the Black Death. He has brought a boy with him to carry the crucifix. The boy holds the crucifix where Julian can see it as the priest intones, ‘Daughter, look upon him who died for you and me.’
While Julian’s eyes are fixed on the crucifix, something surprising happens: the little figure on the cross begins to bleed.
Thus begins a rolling series of visions that Julian will experience over a 24-hour period. She will see vision after vision of the glory of God, the suffering of Jesus, and his royalty signified by his blue attire. She will see the whole world no bigger than a hazelnut, secure in God’s hand.
Julian of Norwich did not die that day. She lived another 50 years, sharing [her visions]… She became the first woman to publish a book in the English language. She called it Showings.
Julian wrote at a time when it was controversial (to say the least) for a woman to teach theology. Yet she asks, ‘Just because I am a woman, and a poor one at that, does that mean I cannot tell you what I saw?’
‘In this vision,’ she writes, ‘as I understand it, I saw truly that he is everything that is good for us. . . . Thus I chose Jesus as my heaven, though at that time I saw him only in pain.’ For 650 years, people in every walk of life have drawn a blessing from what this young woman saw.
You can live a long time off a vision.”
Peter himself, writing years later, off the mountain, no longer babbling, Peter refers back to the vision he saw as an eyewitness to Jesus. Verse 18: “We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain.”
Visions have value for the same reason beauty has value. We need paintings and sculptures and art. We need glimpses of what’s possible, moments of transcendence to keep us going, a framework to interpret the world. For strength to continue the journey, we need a promise to hold onto. Faith.
But as Peter learns, you cannot remain in a vision. As sacred as this mountaintop moment of transfiguration is, the disciples cannot stay there.
Lischer writes, “Transfiguration is not an escape from reality…God gives us a better vision not to escape the suffering of others—or our own—but to strengthen us in the midst of it.”
If you keep reading the story, as soon as Jesus and the disciples come down off the mountain, they’re met by a crowd and a man begging healing for his demon-afflicted, suffering child.
Catholic theologian David Tracy says faith teaches “people how to look at the world as it is and simultaneously hold in their minds what it could become. Not through fantasy or denial. Through what he called ‘disciplined attention to what reality itself suggests is possible.’” (Quoted here by Liz Bucar)
Through the lens of faith, we can honestly see the way things are, while also seeing the potential of the work God is doing. We can look with open eyes at the brokenness of this world, the harm we as human beings are capable of causing, while also holding on to hope, believing the truth that every person bears the image of the God who so loves this world.
We can advocate for freedom for all to worship without fear, for churches to be safe spaces, as our synod’s recently fought for in a lawsuit. We speak against war and pray for peace. We pray and work for a world where everyone has food. Not pretending everything is right in the world, but working towards the vision of God’s kingdom coming to earth.
There’s a lot in this story. A lectionary comic says, “You know, when you think about it, the transfiguration is just weird.”
“It is mysterious,” the other replies. “But the symbolism is pretty clear. Jesus is the enduring Word of God, proclaimed through death all the way to resurrection.”
“You got all that from three guys standing in the fog?”
Maybe not all just from this story. But Transfiguration gives us holy imagination, a lens by which we see the world.
For the disciples, it’s a lens to interpret what comes next for Jesus, his arrest, crucifixion, and most importantly, his resurrection.
Just as at Jesus’ baptism, the voice from the cloud serves as confirmation of who Jesus is. He’s not merely some moral teacher or even just some miracle worker or prophet; this is the Son of God—God with us, in the flesh. That’s who’s dying on a cross, that’s who’s laying down his life for us.
His resurrection then is confirmation—confirmation of God’s victory over death, confirmation of Jesus’ identity, confirmation for us of Jesus’ authority to forgive, to speak with God’s voice.
2 Peter 1:19 says, “So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.”
Let us pray.
God of love, as we enter this week into Lent and journey towards the cross, give us a vision of your love and grace, your power in the midst of life’s storms. In a world that so often seems unstable and broken, where nations are in an uproar, stir in us your vision of a beloved community where all can flourish. Encourage us in difficult days and fix our vision always on your cross, where we see your love revealed. Through Christ we pray, Amen.