Texts: Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2; Luke 9:28-43
Themes: transfiguration, summit and valley, the veil of Moses
Purpose: to teach, to encourage
Title: Reflected in a Mirror
Today, my friends, on this last Sunday of the season of Epiphany, we celebrate Transfiguration Sunday. All of the readings today coalesce with laser-like focus around this one theme. Moses climbs Mount Sinai and encounters God directly. This experience causes his face to shine with such brilliance that the people of Israel cannot look at his face. A veil is required for him to wear before he can speak with the people.
In his Second Letter to the Corinthians, Paul interprets this veil of Moses in a negative way: not as a guard to protect the people, but rather as a barrier that prevents the people from seeing the glory of God.
In the Gospel of Luke, we hear of this enigmatic episode when Jesus climbs up the mountain to pray. There he encounters the Father directly. Like Moses, this experience caused his face to shine with dazzling brilliance. And suddenly, without warning or explanation, Moses and Elijah join him there.
Why Moses and Elijah?
You may remember that Elijah also climbed Mt. Sinai, in imitation of Moses’ effort, in order to speak directly with the Lord (1 Kings 19). In his despair over the faithlessness of his people and the wickedness of their rulers, it seems that Elijah did not know what else to do or where else to go. In Elijah’s world, if one needs to hear directly from God, then one goes to Mt. Sinai. There God spoke to Elijah in a quiet voice, giving him a clear command to return to the people of Israel and to renew the covenant.
Let us think for a few minutes about the importance of the presence of Moses and Elijah on the mountain with the Lord. It’s quite shocking, really. It’s the most amazing aspect of this episode, in my opinion. There is no precedent for people in the Bible meeting with the dead saints of old to discuss current affairs. There is nothing that would prepare us as readers or as hearers of this story so that we can say, “Oh yes, of course. Moses and Elijah are there. That makes perfect sense!”
It doesn’t make any sense at all, honestly. But even though it’s surprising and unexpected, I think it tells us something important.
Paul wrote these words: “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” (2 Cor. 3:18). And so I ask you this: who else functions as the mirrors reflecting the glory of God to the world except for the saints, those who with love and dedication and perseverance have purified their hearts?
Is it by accident that at the very moment when the true glory of the Lord Jesus is most clearly revealed on this earth that Moses and Elijah are there to share in, and to reflect, that glory?
One casualty of the modern scientific worldview which shapes the worldview around us is our ability to perceive and appreciate the presence of those who have gone before us.
Our brothers and sisters in the Greek and Eastern Orthodox traditions have been better able to maintain in their liturgies a deeper sense of this abiding presence of the saints. Whenever there is a lectionary reading attributed to one of the biblical saints, a prayer is typically added for the saints’ blessing. For example: “A reading from St. Paul’s 2nd Letter to the Corinthians: May his blessing be upon us.” Or, “A reading from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel: May his blessing be upon us.”
It’s a small turn of phrase, but small additions such as these suggest that they grow out of a different perspective on our relationship with our ancestors in the faith. Why not, I wonder, ask for St. Paul’s blessing when we are called to read one of his writings?
“Since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses,” of which St. Paul is an important part, does it not make sense to refer to him as if he is truly alive today in the Lord, and not simply as a historical figure of the past?
Coming directly out of the great cloud of witnesses, Moses and Elijah met with Jesus upon the mountain. In no way do I suggest that we can expect to have that same level of interaction with the saints of old. Our Lord lived in unique intimacy with the Father. Our goal is to achieve that same kind of intimacy with God, but for all of us, that will always remain a goal in the distance.
But even if we are not yet ready to experience this depth of connection to the spiritual world, to the heavens, which surround us at all times, is it not right and good for us to at least act as if this is in fact the truth? To at least think about the saints and prophets of old as they truly are, as living members of the Church today?
The Church has always had this goal, but we swim upstream against culture and the numbing effects of time in attempting to maintain our consciousness. For instance, in all of the apostolic churches, the clergy serving at the altar wear this white robe which we call an alb, and over it we wear the colored cloak which we call a chasuble. Why do we wear such things?
Do you know that this alb is nothing different from the ordinary under-garments of those living in Roman times? I guess today it is equivalent to a pair of sweat-pants or jeans and a t-shirt. And do you know that this chasuble which I will put on after the Offertory is nothing else but a rain poncho that Roman citizens wore to protect themselves from the weather?
So why then did the Church have the clergy continue to wear these clothes, when they were nothing but ordinary, every-day clothing? It’s because the first martyrs of the Church stood before the rulers and authorities in these clothes and made their confession of faith in Jesus! It’s because the first martyrs of the Church died wearing ordinary clothing such as these. And we want to look like them. We want to dress like them. It’s because they are our honored ancestors in the faith, and when we think of what it means to be faithful and true and pure in heart, we want to look and act and think as they did.
When Jesus went up the mountain to pray, he took Peter and James and John, and he met Moses and Elijah there.
The great Jewish teacher of the 20th century, Abraham Joshua Heschel, had this to say about prayer in the Bible: “It is not safe to pray alone. Tradition insists that we pray with, and as a part of, the community” (Man’s Quest for God, p. 45).
Maybe our Teacher, our Guide, sets us an example here. That at this moment of prayer when he is most connected to the power and light and glory of the Father, he is surrounded by saints and apostles and prophets. He is not alone. And we are never alone. Never are we separated from them: from their prayers, from their presence, from their witness. The death of the body is not strong enough to break the bonds which God has created in the Church. Praise be to God that Moses and Elijah stood on the mountain in witness to this truth. Amen.
