Today, on the Feast of the Transfiguration, we remember how Jesus took Peter, James and John, and went up on the mountain to pray. There, he was seen bathed in brilliant light, conversing with Moses and Elijah, before the voice of God was heard declaring “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!"

It is a most dramatic moment in the life of Christ, the kind of scene often depicted in stained glass windows or hung on the walls of art museums. In this moment, he undergoes a new spiritual initiation, receives the symbolic support of the key representatives of both the Jewish Law and the Prophets, and the ultimate endorsement of his ministry by the Holy One of Israel. No wonder Luke tells us that the disciples “saw his glory”, which my theological dictionary translates as Jesus’ “divine mode of being”, in which he shares the attributes of God. Likewise, The Catholic Encyclopedia describes the event as a “manifestation of divine glory.” And that is, reasonably enough, the Church’s predominant understanding of the Transfiguration; a special moment when the radiant spiritual character of Jesus was revealed.

Well and good, but Luke the Evangelist seems to want us to focus on something else, something much more. And so, today, we shall. The story is common to all three of the “Synoptic Gospels” (Matthew, Mark and Luke) and all three include the conversation with Moses and Elijah. But only Luke adds this crucial element: only Luke reports the content of that conversation when he writes that they “were speaking of [Jesus’] departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” (v. 31)

When trying to understand Luke’s intentions in telling this story, we must always ask what came immediately before and after. “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, (v.22) “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. Matthew, Mark and Luke all place the story of the Transfiguration after this dialogue with the disciples, but only Luke specifically links the two episodes as he begins the story with these words: “About eight days after Jesus had foretold his death and resurrection, Jesus…went up on the mountain…” (v.28)

After speaking of there, Jesus led the disciples down into the city and was immediately confronted by the harsh realities of human existence in a broken creation full of illness and strife. When he casts an unclean spirit out of a child, Luke tells us, “all were astounded at the greatness of God.” This astonishment leads to Jesus’ widening reputation and hastens the conflict which will bring him to the Cross. As if sensing this, he once again foretells his death in terms that highlight the brokenness of the world, saying “The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands.” Jesus’ warning of the faithlessness of his own comm-unity is followed by the foolish and ugly dispute of the disciples over who was the greatest among them.

When we examine this context of this remarkable event, placed between two separate predictions of Jesus’ own suffering and that of his followers, embedded as it is in an ongoing drama of spiritual warfare, disunity and betrayal, the radiant light of the transfigured Christ now must be seen as something more than a mere demonstration of Jesus’ standing and authority. Now, we are able to see it, literally, as a light shining in the surrounding darkness of human ignorance, weakness, vanity and evil. It is for this reason, I believe, that our Collect today is careful to include this petition: “Mercifully grant that we, being delivered from the disquietude of this world, may by faith behold the King in his beauty…”

Oh, how I wish to be delivered from the disquietude of this world, from the bombing of refugee convoys and the produce trucks of farm workers, from indiscriminate rocket attacks on Israeli neighborhoods,, from the knowledge that much of the world holds you and me personally responsible for what is being done in our name and with our tax dollars. Oh, how I long for a glimmer of light in this gathering darkness of fundamentalist religion, ultra-nationalism, and proliferating weaponry.

Twenty four years ago today, on this same Feast of the Transfiguration, a good and courageous priest named Henry Bird stood in the pulpit of St. John’s Cathedral in Albuquerque, NM, and delivered the homily during my ordination to the priesthood. As I stood there, wearing the splendid, brand-new, brilliant white vestments of my order, Henry Bird reminded us all that on that same day, 37 years earlier, another kind of radiant light had transfigured the world…the blinding, searing, disintegrating flash of atomic fission over the city of Hiroshima. And he gave us to understand that it is in this kind of world, in the midst of unimaginable suffering and the astonishing moral failure of modern warfare, that we must seek the transformational meaning of Jesus on the holy mountain.

And so, I deeply appreciate today’s reading from the 2nd Letter of Peter (1:13-21), which reinforces the theme of our Collect. Peter cites his own personal experience of the Transfiguration, calling himself an “eyewitness of [Jesus’] majesty…while we were with him on the holy mountain.” Peter says, “[Jesus] received honor and glory from God the Father…So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” For Peter, the transfiguration of Jesus is a sign of hope in a desperate world, a token of Christ’s own promise to return in glory to oversee its healing and renewal.

Yesterday, a prayer vigil for peace took place in Bloomington, in response to the fighting between Israel and Hezbollah, in particular, and to the unholy spirit of strife which bedevils the human community in so many places around the world at this time. Approaching the crowd of some 200 people, I noticed that almost everyone present was wearing white clothing. The event was sponsored by a local interfaith group called “Muslims and Jews for Peace & Justice”, so I’m pretty sure that the organizers were not even remotely thinking about today’s Christian celebration of the Feast of the Transfiguration. I’m pretty sure that when they called for the wearing of white clothing, they did not intend to reference the fact that Jesus’ “clothes became dazzling white.” (v.29) as a sign of “his divine mode of being”. But somehow, I couldn’t help making the connection for myself.

Those 200 people on the Monroe County Courthouse lawn, reading from their holy scriptures, sharing the prayers of their traditions, expressing their heartache and sorrow, their empathy with the innocent victims of the violence of war and the injustice of oppression, their compassion for all concerned, combatants and non-combatants alike, those 200 people in their white clothing may not have been thinking of the meaning of transfiguration. Nevertheless, their radiant presence, their holy conversation with their traditions, and their honest engagement with the cost of their own faithfulness, helped my own reflections enormously.

According to The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, “In the Eastern Church, the story [of the Transfiguration] became a mystical symbol of the transformation of this world and of the world to come.” The Transfiguration is a sign of a mysterious, hidden divine purpose entrusted to Jesus, which is remaking this world, and which gives us a foretaste of what this world will be like when it is remade. In an bitterly ironic contrast to the Eastern Church, with it’s vision of that new creation, in which justice rolls down like waters and each all shall sit without fear beneath their vines and fig trees, and nations shall not lift up sword against nation, the Church in the West did not observe the feast until nearly 1000 years later when Callistus III, a crusader pope, used it to celebrate the victory of his forces over the Turks at Belgrade.

Christ is the light of the world. How we follow him determines, to a large degree, the remaking of the world. The question before the Church today, I suppose, is which meaning will we attach to this event; Is our exalted Christ to be wielded as a sword or offered as a gift? Will he be, in our stewardship, the radiant light which illuminates, or the light which irradiates and obliterates? The choice is ours, and that choice begins with our own willingness to be transfigured and remade and revealed in our own “divine mode of being.” May we be delivered from the disquietude of this world, and by faith behold Jesus in his beauty…” AMEN