LIVING IN CHRIST

The father was waiting with an answer when his some what lax 17-year-old son asked to borrow the family car. “Well, son,” the father said, “if you go to church regularly, say your prayers, study your bible and cut your hair, I’ll think about it.” About three months later the boy asked again. “Well, son,” the father answered “I admit you’ve certainly improved. You go to church weekly, you say your prayers regularly and you study your bible consistently. But you still haven’t cut your hair.” “Well,” the boy said, “I prayed for enlightenment about that Dad, and it occurred to me that Abraham had long hair, Noah had long hair, Moses had long hair and even Jesus had long hair.” “Yes”, said the father, “and they walked everywhere they went”.

This morning’s Gospel reading tells of an encounter on a mountain. This event is rich in layer upon layer of meaning. The more we look at it the deeper we go. It refers back to Israel’s past and forward to Jerusalem. It depicts who Jesus is, tells us what his role is.

First it’s important to place this episode in context. Eight days earlier Peter has declared his belief that Jesus is “The Messiah of God”. That recognition leads Jesus to foretell his death and resurrection. This is the biblical context. The Church underlines this context by its inclusion in the lectionary on the Sunday immediately before the start of Lent. It is the last of the stories which tell of the revelation of who Jesus is, starting with the Christmas stories themselves, the revelation to the shepherds, and to the Wise Men, then on to Candlemas with the recognition by Simeon and Anna that this babe was nothing less than the redeemer of Israel. Other recognitions follow thick and fast, at Jesus’ baptism, as he calls his first disciples, as he changes water into wine during the wedding feast at Cana.

So now Jesus takes three close companions up a mountain. The mountain, first of the symbols in this story. It reminds us of God’s giving the Ten Commandments to Moses on Mount Sinai, of Elijah hiding in his cave on the mountainside and hearing God not in the whirlwind but in the silence, of the psalmist’s call “I lift up my eyes to the mountains, from where shall come my help”, of Jesus himself delivering the sermon on the Mount, or escaping from the crowds to a mountainside to pray.

The dazzling white clothes demonstrate how important Jesus is. We live in an era when white garments are two a penny and kept white by a battery of washing liquids and powders. But this was an era when it was very difficult to achieve anything sparkling white. Only the very rich could afford white cloth. So the fact that Jesus’ clothes became dazzling white is highly significant. It’s a way of portraying his importance. This man is not simply an itinerant preacher and wonder worker, he is rich and powerful, not in worldly terms, but in spiritual terms. This transformation refers back to Moses’ meetings with the Lord after which his face shined so much with reflected glory that he had to be veiled for anyone else to be able to bear to see him. Jesus’ taking on a dazzling appearance demonstrates his status.

Then there is the appearance of Moses and Elijah, what greater sign could there be of Jesus’ supreme importance. These two men, towering figures in Israel’s past. Here they are, discussing the next stage of Jesus’ journey with him, and by doing so demonstrating that he was the fulfilment of the work that they had started with the nation of Israel.

And then there is the voice in the cloud, articulating what the symbolism of the dazzling white appearance and the visitation of Moses and Elijah had already pointed to. “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” Yet again there is the reference to the past. First to the prophesies that God would send a redeemer to Israel, and then, more personally a reference to Jesus’ baptism and to the voice that declared “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased”.

So this episode depicts Jesus as firmly part of God’s plan for the salvation of Israel. But it also points firmly forward to Jerusalem and the events leading up to his death. The imagery continues in the unfolding events. He will go up to Jerusalem, the city on the hill, just as he’s climbed the mountain here.

There he will take his disciples to a garden another mountain, the Mount of Olives, where he will pray, but this time they will be unable to resist falling asleep.

There, he will be dressed in a purple robe in mockery at his so-called status of King of the Jews. And there soldiers will gamble for his clothing as he dies on the cross.

And at the foot of that cross, there will be a further declaration “Truly this was God’s Son”, a declaration made this time not by God himself, nor by one of the disciples, but by a Roman centurion, a gentile. The message of the Christ moves out from Israel to all nations, as was foretold by the prophets. Peter, James and John will be part of that movement of taking the Good News to all people.

So there is a massive paradox at the heart of this scene. Here Jesus is shown to be the Son of God, the Chosen one whom Israel had looked for and longed for as their saviour. Yet this is the pivotal moment at which he sets his face firmly towards Jerusalem knowing that it would lead to his death. This pivotal moment is at the heart of our faith. We hold that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, the King of Kings and ruler of all, the Saviour of the world, the one who comes in fulfilment of God’s promises to his people Israel. Jesus knows full well what is to happen, he walks firmly towards Jerusalem in full knowledge of who he is and what he must endure. God’s Son will die an ignominious and cruel death on a cross. No wonder Saint Paul writes of the cross as a stumbling block to belief. Who could possibly imagine that God would redeem the world through death on the cross, that God’s Son would give himself up to this fate, rather than sweeping through the world as a conquering warrior.

So what does this episode on the mountain mean for us? We are about to start our journey through Lent, recalling the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert at the very start of his ministry. But Lent is more than a remembering of that testing time, it is also a looking forward to Jerusalem, to the events of Holy Week. Perhaps more than at any other time of the year we are reminded of the costliness of following Jesus Christ. Eastern Orthodox Christians call Lent the season of bright sadness. To get to the joy of the resurrection we have first to travel through the valley of the shadow of death. Perhaps this description could also be applied to the mountain of transfiguration. It is the mountain of bright sadness, when Jesus is shown in all his glory and turns his face firmly to Jerusalem.

The voice on the mountain tells us to “listen to him”. Jesus had told his disciples just a few days earlier “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me”. It isn’t an easy route.

So what should our journey through Lent look like? Traditionally it is a time of fasting, though these days, fasting, perhaps is too reminiscent of the detox regimes and diets commended by modern health gurus. Saint Augustine commented that fasting was merely greed unless one gave away what one would have eaten. The Rule of St Benedict, moderate as always, asks that we withdraw some food and add some reading. Both actions give us the opportunity to listen more closely to what Jesus Christ is saying. Withdrawing food perhaps gives us the opportunity to see the real hunger within ourselves and within the world, reading opens up new horizons, new possibilities.

As Christians we are called to grow into the image and likeness of Christ. Here on the mountainside we are truly shown what that image looks like. It is glorious, bright shining, inspirational, but it is also obedient to the will of the Father, self-sacrificing, determined. As Christians we are called to live in the paradox of the Saviour who dies. Jesus had also said “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.” Our paradox is that living in Christ involves giving him our lives so we can have life more fully, allowing Christ to transform us, as he was transformed on that mountain.

Penny Sayer
St John the Evangelist, Pevensey Rd, St Leonards on Sea