Seeing only Jesus

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.