a tale of two (or three) mountains (a sermon on Matthew 17:1-9)

Today’s Gospel reading from Matthew about the Transfiguration is the perfect passage for where we find ourselves in the church calendar, poised as we are between Epiphany and Lent. The repeated images and themes in these seasons and texts simultaneously draw our gaze backwards and forward. From this mountaintop, we, along with the disciples, are reminded of where we’ve come from as well as where we’re going.

Photo by Ales Krivec on Unsplash

First, where we’ve come from: The season of Epiphany began with the brightness of the star, leading the magi to find the infant Jesus. From there, we heard the story of the baptism of Jesus. Immersed in the Jordan River by John, as he came up from the water, the heavens opened and the Spirit of God descended like a dove. And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’

Here on the mountaintop at the transfiguration it is Jesus who shines, himself a display of the glory of God. And here again the voice from the cloud declares Jesus’ identity: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am pleased; listen to him!” In the same way that Jesus’ baptism marked the beginning of his ministry of teaching and healing, the transfiguration marked a turning point as well. From this mountain, Jesus is headed for Jerusalem and the cross.

Yes, as we look ahead to Jerusalem, another mountain awaits - the mountain of Calvary. On that mountain, Jesus is talking not with Moses and Elijah, but with two criminals who are crucified with him, one on his right, and one on his left.

On that mountain, no one wants to set up tents and stay awhile. Instead, the disciples scatter. Instead, it is the Roman soldiers and the women who had followed from a distance who bear witness to his death.

On that mountain, it is the beloved Son who cries out in a loud voice - and he is in anguish that he has been forsaken. On that mountain, the clouds that appear overhead are not bright, but rather blanket the land in darkness.

Even so, the glory of God is on display on that mountain as it was at the transfiguration, only it looks quite different than what we expect. On that mountain, God uses a cross - an instrument of torture and death - as a way to bring life and salvation. On that mountain, Jesus opens his arms to all.

In the verses preceding the transfiguration story, we hear that “Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” Does anyone recall how this part of the story ends? To put it mildly, the disciples are not a fan of this game plan. Peter, bless his heart, pulls Jesus aside to rebuke him - “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” To which Jesus responds, “Get behind me, Satan.”

Even after this episode, we hear of two more times that Jesus tries to lay everything out for the disciples, but they don’t seem to fully grasp it. Certainly, if you had to choose, the transfiguration version of Jesus is easier to get behind - safe from danger and suffering, dazzling with the glory of God, sharing a mountaintop with rockstars like Moses and Elijah. Like the disciples, we find it hard to even imagine how God could choose pain and suffering and sorrow when the alternative is so much better.

But of course the kingdom of heaven, the reign of God, is upside-down and backwards from what we’ve come to expect from the world. As Jesus taught and preached, in this kingdom the lowly are lifted up and the meek and poor are called blessed. In this kingdom, it is not glory, or wealth, not success, or even goodness that win the day. In this kingdom, God’s grace and love have the first and the last words.

When we see the glory of God on display as it was on the mountain at the transfiguration, we can certainly celebrate God’s power and goodness - but not because this version of Jesus is so much better than the crucified one. Instead, we understand that the kind of glory that dazzles is impossible to understand apart from the kind of glory that suffers with.

This is why Jesus gives the instructions he does, as the four of them trek down the mountain. “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son-of-Man has been raised from the dead,” he instructs them. This vision cannot tell the whole story. It is not complete apart from the death and resurrection of Jesus.

On another mountain, after the resurrection, Jesus again gathers his disciples. As he prepares to ascend into heaven, he commissions them to continue the work they have begun together: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

When you think about it, these words are not so different from Jesus’ words back on the mountain at the transfiguration. When the disciples are cowering on the ground, seized by terror and awe and fear, Jesus comes to them, touches them, and says, “Get up and do not be afraid.”

Oh, dear ones, there is work to do. Glory and dazzling brightness is not the whole story, but neither is suffering and death. Even now Jesus comes near to us, touching us as we receive his body and blood in the bread and cup we share. In this meal you receive salvation, forgiveness, and new life. In this meal, fear and shame are dispelled as you hear that these promises are for you. In this meal, you receive Jesus. So get up and do not be afraid - Jesus is with you always.

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