The power behind the Transfiguration
Transfiguration | Luke 9:28-36
God speaks!
‘This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’
Listen to him! Aren’t we doing that already? Yes, of course. But also, mmmmm…sometimes not…
Actually, I always find this statement “listen to him” ironic since Jesus doesn’t seem to say anything in this passage. Unless, of course, we’re taking the St. Francis view of preaching: which sometimes includes words.
Of course, “listen to him” could be a more general statement, don’t you think? So it isn’t just what’s going on in that moment; up the mountain, but also down and all around it. What is Jesus saying that needs listening to?
That’s question 1: What is Jesus saying?
Question 2 is a bit more interesting: Why does God think we need that reminder?
What is Jesus saying?
Well, he came up the mountain to pray. And then there’s Jesus’s conversation with Moses and Elijah. And what are the three of them talking about?
Departure. And what Jesus will accomplish in Jerusalem.
The three disciples who are there (Peter, James, and John) overhear this conversation. It doesn’t seem to be with them or for them. It happens near them. To witness, perhaps? To listen to?
If we were reading all of chapter 9, we would sense the theme more strongly.
The last thing Jesus teaches before heading up the mountain is about the Passion to come. And that his followers will need to take up their own crosses to follow him.
And what happens when they come down the mountain? Jesus heals a boy that his disciples can’t heal. He chastises the current generation. And then he talks about the Passion to come.
From verse 21 to 45, Jesus predicts his suffering, death, and resurrection three times. Three times. And nothing else.
No parables. Commands.
Just the Passion and commitment.
Why does God think we need a reminder to listen?
I suppose it’s obvious. We celebrate this feast of the Transfiguration and often do so without talking about death and resurrection.
But I think the situation is borne out in the story by the general misunderstanding of the disciples. So much is happening. They’re distracted.
So let’s make it plain. Chapter nine begins with Jesus calling his disciples apostles; he sends them out to proclaim the Good News and heal the world.
And they do.
And then, when Jesus tells them that he is going to suffer, die, and rise again, things seem to change.
What changes?
I suppose this, too, is obvious. But unsaid.
They’re afraid. And they don’t want Jesus to die. Because they have come to love him. And because he’s the messiah. They’ve just figured that out.
So Jesus is giving them news they don’t like.
They don’t like hearing that Jesus is going to die. And they don’t like the prospect that most of them are going to die too. That’s no good.
But I think the change is even deeper than this. And a bit more intuitive—emotional. The sort of thing that motivates us to act on something we’re concerned about without really acknowledging why.
Before all of this talk of death, Jesus was talking about life. And that was motivating. That got them off their butts and into the streets.
Jesus gave them real power. They could literally change the world. By doing things that changed other people’s lives. That’s what they’re there for, isn’t it? To change things? Make it better?
And then, when Jesus talks about his own death, tells them they, too, will suffer, that power goes away. They might not want it anymore. That feels like a string attached. They preferred the happy good stuff to this, gross sacrificing stuff.
Cross-Carrying
We tend to describe this internal bias for the positive as a question of effectiveness of the teacher rather than the obstinance of the student.
We say that the carrot works better than the stick. And that’s true.
In psychology, it has long been understood that the most effective motivation by far—leaps and bounds beyond anything else—is positive reinforcement. Giving someone something to encourage a behavior.
And the very worst, and entirely ineffective tool for motivation is negative punishment: taking something away to discourage a behavior.
The other options in the middle are all relatively ineffective, however. Pretty much the only thing that works is positive reinforcement. Because everybody will learn to do something when the outcome is good. And it is hard to learn what not to do, no matter what the teacher has in mind.
But I think we get this confused with positivity. And at the same time, we have come to reject tension as negativity.
In short, we like the idea of a church that empowers us to one that challenges us. One that is powerful above the community to one that demands the community be better. And we prefer a constant focus on healing to one which demands we stop hurting each other for selfish gain.
Apostles heal and proclaim the good news and carry the cross Rome puts on their backs.
Listen to the Good News
Suffering and death doesn’t sound like good news. But we know that, because of Jesus, it is.
This is what Christians ought to be good at, after all. Death and resurrection. Which means dealing with death. Talking about it. Confronting it. Grieving, loving, challenging, hoping, transforming it. Death is our bread and butter.
Obviously the apostles feared death. We do too. But Christ doesn’t fear it. And the Good News reveals the weakness of death by breaking its supremacy over us.
Our work is dying. And rising.
We are midwives, helping usher one another into life and into death and into life.
The same applies to our families, our work, and our church.
We are people of eternal life, yes. As eternal life is in the present tense. And we are also a people of resurrection. We love life. Accept death. And rejoice in rebirth.
That is our work in everything. Because that is the heart of our faith. Birth, death, rebirth. Like the seasons and life cycles. Everything in nature and everything we do. Birth, death, rebirth.
Listen!
This is what Jesus is telling his apostles. Not just crowds of nobodies. And not students taking studious notes. His apostles. Those called to do the work of Jesus in the world.
And that’s us.
Listen to the Good News that is revealed in Jesus’s suffering, death, and resurrection. Not that it itself is good. Or that Rome is doing the work of God in doing this to Jesus. But that resurrection is the Good News. That’s the point.
Everyone knows that we live and die. What God reveals in Jesus is that nothing ends there.
We live, die, and live.
The story isn’t the building of a house or the tragedy of the fire that consumes it. The threat of destruction is the normal power move. But God reveals the real power move is to rise from the ashes.
Death wants us to ignore that. Forget about it. Focus on the pain. The suffering. Avoidance.
Death, for all its power to shrink our imaginations and command our bodies; driving us to abuse others, reckless selfishness, and inane hatred; is nothing to God. Nothing.
This is what God commands: listen! To the beloved. The one who says that this, too, is our burden, our work, our way of living. Not to live in fear of death. But in the hope of new life.
Even as the richest people seek to escape death for themselves—whether it be living forever or colonizing Mars—rather than face what we’re doing to the planet or bring an end to fossil fuels and our modern way of life. We carry a cross of faith. Faith in new life. In resurrection. Death is never the period at the end of the book.
This is our certainty; our confidence. Our freedom. Our joy. Things we love will end. And then, in due time, things we’ll come to love are born.