Genesis 12:1-4a The call of Abram, the father of the people of God.
2 Timothy 1:8b-10
God calls and enlightens us.
Matthew 17:1-9
‘His face shone like the sun.’
‘Rise, and have no fear.’ And when they lifted up
their eyes, they saw no one, but Jesus only.
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Today’s gospel is both glorious and tender, rich in
scriptural echoes and resonances.
The glory is evident.
Having led Peter, James and John, the inner circle
of the Twelve, up a high mountain Jesus is transfigured: that is to say his
outer form and appearance changes from the ordinary to the extraordinary, the
natural to the supernatural, the humanity of Jesus shines with his heavenly and
divine light.
Peter, James and John glimpse into heaven’s light
and heaven’s time.
The heavens are torn open, just as a Jesus’ baptism,
and like at Jesus’ baptism the Father declares that this is his beloved Son,
with whom he is well pleased: this is ‘heaven in ordinarie.’ (George Herbert)
This is heavenly time because Moses and Elijah, long
dead, are also present, ‘For a thousand years in your sight are but as
yesterday, which passes like a watch in the night,’ as the psalm reminds us.
(Psalm 90.4).
The mountain signifies the touching of earth and
heaven, of things mundane and things heavenly, and of our highest aspirations Godward.
The figures of Moses and Elijah speak of the first Covenant
God has with his people: Moses representing the Law of the Lord and Elijah the
prophets.
They flank Jesus who is the personification of the
New Covenant, through whom, in the words of our second reading God, ‘abolished
death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.’ (2 Timothy
1.10)
Peter’s response is beautiful.
In suggesting making the three tents he is not being
silly or naïve, he is drawing on deep scriptural echoes from the Old Testament.
Our first reading spoke of Abram, who is renamed
Abraham.
The promise he is given to be a great nation is
intimately associated with tents.
He was nomadic, moving on at God’s prompting,
pitching his tents on the way.
It is at the oaks of Mamre (Genesis 18) that three angelic
visitors come to his tent to whom he gives hospitality.
Peter sees three heavenly figures in Jesus , Moses
and Elijah and wishes to offer them the hospitality of the tent as shelter.
Peter also knows that in the book of Exodus the
divine glory moves with the people of Israel in a tent, also known as a
tabernacle, as God moves nomadically through the wilderness with his people, a
tabernacle which becomes the prototype for the Temple in Jerusalem, the place
where God’s glory resides.
What Peter is learning, as we are too, is that God’s
glory resides in the person of Jesus Christ, who himself tabernacles, dwells,
with us his Pilgrim People: he is the fullness of divine glory; he is the
Temple and the tabernacle.
So the Transfiguration of Jesus, which is portrayed in
the centre of our great East Window, above the scene of the crucifixion, is
about glory, the divine glory revealed in and shining through the Divine Son,
Jesus Christ.
Sometimes, though, glory is too much, too overwhelming.
And that is where the tenderness of Jesus comes to
us.
Peter, James and John hear the voice of the Father,
unmediated, directly speaking from heaven, and they are terrified and fall on
their faces.
We’re invited to reflect on our own response to God’s
glory and to God’s word.
It is both beautiful and awful, in the sense of
being full of awe.
This is where the notion of holy fear is important.
Sometimes we feel we cannot come near the holiness of
God, surely God is too remote, too high and mighty, King of kings and Lord of lords
for us to come near.
A proper response knowing our human inadequacy in
the face of God is to fall, prostrate before him.
Peter, James and John have fallen to the ground in terror
– they know the Old Testament accounts of the man Uzzah who died simply by
touching the Ark of the Covenant. (2 Samuel 6.6–7, 1 Chronicles 13.9–10)
And yet we see, in Jesus, the divine tenderness.
He is, in the title of our recommended Lent Book
this year, ‘Jesus our refuge.’
The Good Jesus, the kindly Jesus: who is beauty in
all its brilliance, goodness in all its grace and truth in all its power, says ‘Rise,
and have no fear.’
When you fall flat on your face – emotionally, spiritually,
physically – as awestruck, or in weakness, or in fear, feel the touch of Jesus
on your shoulder to stir you; hear his gentle whisper, ‘Rise. Have no fear.’
When we feel the tender touch and hear the tender
voice of Jesus then, like Peter, James and John we can indeed rise and fix our
eyes only on him.
One of the beautiful devotional exercises of the Church
is prayer before the Blessed Sacrament, the consecrated bread of the Eucharist,
which is kept in this church, like many, in a place known as the ‘tabernacle’.
Ours is in the St Nicholas Chapel, shrouded by a
curtain with the light of a candle perpetually lit before it, signifying the presence
and light of Christ.
There is a beautiful story of a priest known as the Curé
d’Ars, St. John Maria Vianney, who went into his church and found an old farmer
kneeling there in front of the tabernacle.
The priest asked him what he was doing, to which the
man humbly responded, ‘Nothing, I look at Him, and He looks at me.’
That man was simply adoring the glory of the tender
Lord Jesus.
We meet Jesus in the scriptures – the word of the
Lord – in prayer and above all when we lift our eyes in adoration, when we see his
body broken and blood outpoured, as did the disciples on the road to Emmaus.
Today, in this Eucharist we receive the fullness of the
glory of God placed on our hands.
When you hear the words ‘this is my body’, ‘this is
my blood’ and see the host and the chalice elevated, raised up, you yourself are
on the holy mountain.
At that moment lift up your eyes, and yes, have holy
fear - for you behold in bread and wine the King of kings and Lord of lords -
but also know the presence of the tender Jesus, who himself was raised from the
dead, and now raises and exalts you.
May we behold his glory, the glory of the
transfigured, crucified, risen and ascended Lord.
And
when they lifted up their eyes, they saw no one, but Jesus only.
