Seeing All Creation Through Transfigured Eyes

February 11, 2024

Mark 9:2-9

John Gribas

(New Revised Standard Version)

The Transfiguration

Six days later, 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, [3] and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. [4] And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. [5] 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." [6] He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. [7] Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, "This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!" [8] Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. [9] 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.

 Sermon: Seeing All Creation Through Transfigured Eyes

 Wow. This is an amazing story. It’s no wonder the three disciples were terrified. Peter’s awkward offer to build some shelters is understandable; how many of us when surprised by a new and profound situation have ended up babbling something kind of silly? Jesus’ sudden radiance—apparently turned up to eleven—and the sudden appearance of long-dead icons of the faith… This was no ordinary day for Peter, James, and John.

Actually, I can imagine why it might not seem all that amazing—at least in light of all the other amazing stories we see in scripture. The creation of the universe. That’s a big one, for sure. The almost total destruction of the earth through a worldwide flood. The parting of the Red Sea. The fortified walls of Jericho falling down. A reluctant prophet swallowed by a great fish and then spit up onto dry land.

Certainly, Peter and company were well-versed in these stories that were so central to their lives as Jewish men. But then, for Peter, James, and John, this amazing story, the transfiguration…wasn’t a story. It was an experience. They were there. They saw and heard all of this. And that cloud that overshadowed them. Have you ever been high on a mountain trail and had a cloud move in and overtake you? It’s awesome, and rather frightening, and something to remember.

So the fact that this was not just a story but an experience should help us appreciate why Jesus’ three companions were so overwhelmed.

At the same time, this wasn’t their first up-close-and-personal amazing  experience with Jesus. Water into wine. Healings. Calming a storm. Feeding the 5000. Walking on water. These men had seen a lot in Jesus’ company. So why did this particular amazing thing seem to stand out in terms of its impact and significance.

As I spent time with this passage in preparing for today, something dawned on me. All of the previous amazing things these disciples had witnessed and experienced were situations where Jesus’ presence, words, and actions showed his ability to somehow impact his external world: physical substances like water and bread, the weather, hurting and broken people, death.

These things left Jesus’ followers amazed. They also often led to questions like, “Who is this man who does such things? What should we think of this person who the wind and waves obey? Where does he come from?”

The transfiguration was different.

It was different because it revealed, not what Jesus could “do,” but who Jesus really was.

Rather than prompting questions about Jesus’ origin, nature, and true identity, the transfiguration experience offered an unequivocal, gigawatt-sized answer.

"This is my Son, the Beloved.”

And then, some unequivocal instructions. “Listen to him!"

At least, these instructions seem pretty unequivocal. But I have to wonder, why all of this for such a straightforward message? Why single out these three followers? Why have them go with Jesus up a high mountain, apart and by themselves? Why the turned-up-to-eleven brightness? Why have Moses and Elijah there as backup singers for this cosmic performance? Why the cloud?

Was it because Peter, James, and John were simply bad at listening? Maybe. I can’t help but wonder, though, whether the emphasis in God’s brief three-word instruction was on word number three, not word number one.

Not “LISTEN to him,” but “Listen to HIM!”

HIM! This one you see here, now. Radiant beyond imagining. This one whose magnificence summons the likes of Moses and Elijah from their places in eternity. When you listen to this one you know as Jesus, you need to understand who you are listening to. You, Peter, James, and John, take in all of this and understand. You are listening to HIM!

And then, in verse eight, we are informed that “Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.”

Only Jesus. But now, for these particular followers, definitely not “only” Jesus. How could it be, given what they just saw and heard and learned? This Jesus, this carpenter turned rabbi from Nazareth, this prophet who said and did amazing and inexplicable things, was now…different.

You ever watch the Antiques Road Show? I love that show. People arrive with all kinds of things. Most often things that have been in their home and in their possession for a long time. Things that often have sentimental value and that they know well—or think they know well. And then, they discover something rather amazing.

Those funny animal figures seemingly carved out of some pale-green rock, that someone found in a dusty box in their grandparents’ attic, and that they so often nonchalantly played with when they were young—these, in truth, turn out to be rare jade Ming dynasty royalty tokens. Ancient, precious, and priceless.

In some ways, with this revelation, nothing has changed. The figures are still the same beloved childhood toys that they were. But in other, very real ways, they are and will always be quite, quite different. At least in the eyes of the one who brought them in to the Antiques Road Show.

And so it was for Peter, James, and John. They traveled up that mountain with Jesus. Who did they travel down with? We might be tempted to look at verse eight here and say, “only Jesus.” But, no. Not only Jesus. No way! The owner of those strange, pale-green animal figures didn’t leave the Antiques Road Show with “only some childhood playthings.”

But, what changed? What changed for the one leaving the Antiques Road Show? What changed for Peter, James, and John? What was transfigured? Jesus? I guess I have to say “Yes.” I mean, in my experience this piece of scripture is most often referred to as “the transfiguration of Jesus.” At the same time, the word “transfiguration” suggests some kind of change, and I think we can safely say that Peter, James, and John came away from their experience with a dramatically changed understanding.

I mentioned Fr. Richard Rohr in an earlier message. Rohr is a Franciscan priest and author, and his work offers some keen insights into differences between the “Jesus” the disciples followed up the mountain and what was revealed to those disciples on the mountaintop. I believe Rohr would argue that what was revealed was not simply a brighter and more awesome “Jesus,” but “the universal Christ.”

In a meditation written for Advent, Father Richard asks:

What if we’ve missed the point of who Christ is, what Christ is, and where Christ is? I believe that a Christian is simply one who has learned to see Christ everywhere. Understanding the Universal or Cosmic Christ can change the way we relate to creation, to other religions, to other people, to ourselves, and to God. Knowing and experiencing this Christ can bring about a major shift in consciousness.

The kind of major shift in consciousness Peter, James, and John experienced on that mountain, perhaps. Father Richard continues by describing this universal Christ as “the blueprint of reality from the very start,” and as “love and beauty exploding outward in all directions.”

Here are a few more ideas from Father Richard’s meditation:

In Jesus…God’s presence became more obvious and believable in the world. The formless took on form in someone we could hear, see, and touch, making God easier to love.

And…

Jesus and Christ are not exactly the same. The Christ [is] clearly historically older, larger, and different than Jesus himself. Jesus is the union of human and divine in space and time; Christ is the eternal union of matter and Spirit from the beginning of time.

And…

When we believe in Jesus Christ, we’re believing in something much bigger than the historical incarnation that we call Jesus. Jesus is the visible map. The entire sweep of the meaning of the Anointed One, the Christ, includes us and includes all of creation since the beginning of time.

I don’t know about you but, while I find ideas like this really intriguing…they also kind of make my head hurt. These are big ideas. I suppose that makes sense since they are ideas about the material and the immaterial, the finite and the eternal, Jesus of Nazareth and the Christ.

Maybe the bigness of all of this explains the reaction of the disciples. For finite creatures, getting a glimpse of the divine has got to be more than a little uncomfortable.

Actually, I think I can relate. I have a vivid memory of a moment when I was a kid. Probably about eight or nine years old. It was a late summer evening. I had been outside in my yard, bouncing on one of those overinflated tractor tire innertubes that were my generation’s version of a trampoline. I lay inside that innertube, my head resting on one side and my feet propped up on other, looking up into the clear night. The stars were everywhere and so far away. How far? Very, very far. And then beyond the stars? The darkness of space…forever.

I don’t know how long I lay there, giving my mind freedom to explore the idea of forever. But in a moment something happened. I know the human mind cannot truly grasp the idea of forever, but it seemed to my eight or nine year old mind that I was really close to doing just that. Super close. Too close. And it was terrifying.

I had this sense that, if I allowed myself one more small step into whatever it was I was grasping, it would inevitably grasp me, and every molecule that was part of me would separate and shoot out in a different direction…into the cosmos. That idea seemed like something to avoid, so I quickly reigned in those thoughts, closed my eyes, let my heartbeat slow down to something closer to normal, and headed inside.

That night, it seemed the evening sky was transfigured for me. But in actuality, nothing about the evening sky changed. What changed was my perception of it. I think it would be correct to say that my eyes were transfigured.

And it seems to me that on that mountaintop, the eyes of Peter, James, and John were also transfigured. Yes, the gospel story draws our attention to a real and awesome change in Jesus. But Mark doesn’t just say that Jesus was transfigured but that Jesus “was transfigured before them…” Before them. In their presence. In their sight.

Have you ever heard teachings about the dangers of always wanting “mountaintop” experiences to fuel one’s faith—mountaintop experiences like the one Peter, James, and John had? I’ve heard teachings like that, reminding me that most of life is lived down in the valleys and away from the awesomeness. I get it. We live in a time a place that constantly seeks the spectacular. And I understand the caution against seeking or expecting our life of faith to be a continuous stream of amazing “mountaintop” experiences.

But I don’t know if that is the best take-away from this gospel transfiguration story. What I see here is a story of some individuals who had an opportunity to get away from the hustle and bustle of life, spent some private time with Jesus, and were blessed to recognize in Jesus something else. Something cosmic and timeless and huge. The Christ.

And while in one way what happened on that mountaintop stayed on that mountaintop, Peter, James, and John were changed. They came down from that mountain with transfigured eyes. I suspect that they never saw Jesus the same way again.

Why can’t we all have a transfiguration experience? Well, I think we can. And I don’t think it requires a mountain trek or radiating garments or Moses or Elijah or a cloud or a voice from heaven. We have to remember, at the time, those disciples were living on the other side of the resurrection. We see Jesus from a very different historical angle. But even with our historical advantage, and even with scripture for revelation, it seems help is often needed for recognizing the universal Christ. That help might come through inspiration from an actual hike to a mountaintop. Or some quiet time of solitude. Reading a little Richard Rohr. Possibly laying in an innertube and gazing into the forever of the night sky on a summer evening.

In so many ways and through so many experiences, I think Jesus is inviting all of us to look at him and to see the Christ. And since Jesus identifies so closely with humanity that he says, “Whatever you do to the least of these, you do unto me,” I think he wants us to use our transfigured eyes to see the Christ not just in him, but in all of humanity. And as we profess this Christ as the one through whom all things were made, certainly using our transfigured eyes can reveal the hand of the maker in all of creation.

This might sound like a pretty big ask. It might take some practice. So let me finish up here today with one practical idea. Growing up, Fred Weber was an important spiritual mentor to me and hundreds of other young people in Havre, Montana. A committed Catholic man, Fred attended mass regularly. Catholics celebrate communion in each service. During each mass, as the line of people filed past him in his pew for the bread and wine, he intentionally looked at each one, and to himself he would say, “Hello, Jesus.” “Hello, Jesus.” “Hello, Jesus.”

I don’t think he read Richard Rohr, but I know that what Fred was doing was recognizing, in each of these fellow human beings, Christ—the universal Christ.

Recall the words of Richard Rohr from earlier: “I believe that a Christian is simply one who has learned to see Christ everywhere.” If this is so, then Fred Weber was doing a very good job of practicing his Christianity…and putting his transfigured eyes to excellent use.

May we all look to Jesus and, in and through him, see the Christ. And in that seeing be blessed with transfigured eyes allowing us to see Christ in others and in all creation.

Amen.