'Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.
As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.'
--Mark 9: 2-9
“Listen to him!” the voice said. We have heard this voice before. A few weeks ago at Jesus’ baptism the same voice called Jesus “My Son. The Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” But now the proclamation of Jesus’ belovedness comes with a special instruction for the audience: listen to him!
An Eastern icon of the Transfiguration of Our Lord Jesus Christ.
This story of Jesus’ Transfiguration is one of those that we hear every year at this time, in these last days before we head into the season of Lent. I suspect that’s because immediately after this moment Jesus heads up that long, difficult path toward Jerusalem, to death on a cross. In the same way, we are headed into the long, often difficult path of Lent, which will also culminate at the foot of the cross. Each year we hear this story, but the wonderful thing about Scripture is that each time we hear, the Spirit seems to bring something new to our attention, some new word or phrase that grabs us. For me, what has kept grabbing me has been those three words: listen to him.
I have to laugh because we obviously didn’t listen to him. For proof, just go up to Mt. Tabor, to the Church of the Transfiguration, and when you walk inside you will see the gorgeous high altar head of you, and to either side you will see the chapels of Moses and Elijah. Yeah, we built the dwelling places anyway! We didn’t listen.
The Chapels of Moses (left) and Elijah (right) inside the Church of the Transfiguration on Mt. Tabor.
I wonder why we are so prone to not actually listen to Jesus. One reason I suspect is a phenomenon that one of my clergy friends likes to call the religion of Jesus vs. the religion about Jesus. The religion of Jesus is what we might call the religion of the original 12 apostles and all those disciples that followed Jesus in his ministry. This religion is grounded squarely on the the Gospels more than any other Scriptures, and is concerned with what Jesus said, how he lived his life, the example he gave for those who chose to follow him. The religion about Jesus, meanwhile, is the religion that grew up in the days after Jesus' death and resurrection, when folks told stories about Jesus, but he was kept in isolation. This religion became concerned with doctrine and dogmatic laws and became a mirror image of the very faith that Jesus himself often criticized. It became concerned with matters never addressed by Jesus—such as who could get married or who could be ordained—rather than matters that he addressed so often—such as economic justice for the poor, release for the prisoners, and the deconstruction of top-down power models. In short, while the religion of Jesus sees him as a living, present reality, the religion about Jesus keeps him bound to distant years in Palestine, as the hymn says. We Christians have always had a choice: to we proclaim the religion of Jesus or the religion about Jesus? Do we have a relationship with Jesus that is alive in the present reality, or are we just holding Jesus in pristine condition in isolation, apart from our daily lives?
One of the best versions of the Transfiguration story that I have seen is in the graphic novel Marked by Steve Ross. Here Jesus is depicted as a clean-shaven, somewhat androgynous person of color preaching in a dystopian, occupied land in an unspecified time period. There are some great illustrations of the stories from the gospel, but the Transfiguration is one of my favorites. Here we see Jesus climb up the mountainside, only to step off the ledge when he gets to the top. In the air he is met by Moses and Elijah—who bear a striking resemblance to Frederick Douglass and Louis Armstrong. As he’s talking with the law-giver the greatest of the prophets plays his trumpet and Jesus begins to glow with radiant light, causing Peter to take out his camera. But before he can snap a picture the camera explodes. He doesn’t understand why such a thing happened. “I just wanted a souvenir,” he says. “My friend,” Jesus replies, “there are some things you just can’t freeze in time.”
A panel from Steve Ross' Marked showing the Transfiguration.
Do we just want a souvenir, a snapshot of a moment in time to keep forever? Do we just want to build a tent and let Jesus stay there, isolated from the rest of the world? I suspect the answer is no, otherwise you wouldn't be reading this blog! Brothers and sisters, we may be heading into Lent this week, but we are Easter people. We live in the ever-present reality that Jesus IS alive. He is still moving, still speaking. Peter and the others could not see what was right in front of them, they wanted to preserve it forever, and that kept them from seeing his glory in the present moment, and that is why they did not listen. But we who have seen his glory, we know his love, his savaging grace, and his power to heal body, mind, and spirit. We've seen it, and know it to be ever-present. Our message, our gospel, is not to be kept hidden. It must not be veiled—as St. Paul says—but rather it is to be proclaimed and shared with all, but to do that we must listen to him.
He is still speaking to us: ““You cannot serve God and mammon,” he says, (Matthew 6: 24); I desire mercy, (Matthew 9: 13); “You give them something to eat,” (Mark 6: 37); “Anyone who is not against us is for us,” (Mark 9: 40); “Do good to those who hate you,” (Luke 6: 27); “When you give a banquet do not invite your friends, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind,” (Luke 14: 12); “Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone,” (John 8: 7); “Love one another, as I have loved you,” (John 13: 34). I could go on. Those aren’t words from parables, brothers and sisters, those are commandments, teachings from our Lord that are still being spoken in our own day.
This church thing we do is not about just retelling these stories and remembering isolated moments in time. We don’t go to church just to see our friends and feel better about ourselves but to meet the living God in the living Christ. At the holy table he is made known to us and feasts with us in bread and wine. In his Gospel he still speaks, calling us to listen and go from our places of worship to share that Good News that, yes, he is alive, that yes, his message is real, that yes, there is hope and justice and salvation for this world that he loves so much. No snapshots or dwelling places are necessary because he cannot be contained in them anyway! We are not just about Jesus, we are of Jesus. He lives in us and through us, and he is still speaking to us. Let anyone with ears to hear listen to him.
