In the Light
Matthew 17:1-9
“Who do you say that I am?” I’m not asking for myself, I’m quoting Jesus. That’s the question that Jesus poses to his disciples in chapter 16 of Matthew’s Gospel, shortly before today’s reading from chapter 17. “Who Do You Say That I Am?” is also the title of the first-ever paper that I wrote in seminary, which was for my class in Early and Medieval Church History. From the Church’s earliest days—earlier still, even within Jesus’ own lifetime—people were discussing and debating just who this wandering rabbi from Nazareth of Galilee was. A prophet? A healer? The Messiah? A charlatan? A blasphemer? A threat to the political and religious establishment?
The question of who Jesus is flows like an undercurrent through today’s passage. The disciples have been with Jesus now for some time. They’ve heard him preach. They’ve watched him heal the sick. They’ve witnessed him feed thousands with just two fish and a few loaves of bread. By now they’ve no doubt come to an understanding of who he is…for them, for Israel, and perhaps for the world.
In fact, it was just six days earlier that Jesus had asked the disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” Showing that there was no consensus, the disciples gave a range of answers. “Some say John the Baptist but others Elijah and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets” (Matt. 16:14). Raising the ante, Jesus then asks the disciples directly, “But who do you say that I am?” (Matt. 16:15).
Any guesses as to which of the disciples is the first to respond? Of course, it’s Peter, who is always first among the disciples—the first to be called, the first to step out of the boat to follow Jesus on to the water, and invariably the first to speak up. “You are the Messiah,” he answers, “the Son of the living God” (Matt. 16:16). In what could be construed as a backhanded compliment, Jesus responds, “Blessed are you Simon son of Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you but my Father in heaven” (Matt. 16:17). In other words, “You didn’t figure this out on your own, Peter. You had some heavenly help.”
Peter’s declaration that Jesus is the Messiah marks the start of a turning point in the disciples’ understanding of who Jesus is. It’s only the start of a turning point because, as the Gospels are not shy about showing, the disciples are slow on the uptake. They won’t fully come to understand who Jesus is until after he has been crucified and raised from the dead. Up until where we are in today’s reading, there had been only inklings that there was more to Jesus than meets the eye. For instance, earlier when Jesus with but a word had calmed the storm that threatened to destroy the boat in which he and the disciples were traveling, they asked themselves, “What sort of man is this that even the winds and the sea obey him?” (Matt. 8:27).
That thought surely must have remained with them as they continued to walk with Jesus from town to town, listening to him preach, watching him heal, witnessing the miracles he performed. What sort of man is this? In today’s passage they will get their answer.
As we turn to Matthew 17, it’s now six days since Peter’s declaration that Jesus is the Messiah. Jesus pulls aside from the other disciples Peter, James, and John and leads them up a mountain. As each of the Gospels reveals, Jesus appears to have an especially close relationship with Peter, James, and John, who form an inner circle within the disciples.
Jesus has brought his three closest disciples up this mountain to give them a revelation. Matthew writes that “he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.” “Transfiguration.” Now that’s one of those fancy five-syllable words you rarely hear outside of church sanctuaries and seminaries. It’s not a word that anyone uses in casual conversation. Believe me, I tried my best to work in a transfiguration pun into the sermon title. No dice.
A transfiguration is simply a change in appearance of something to a more beautiful or spiritual state.
But a transfiguration is simply a change in appearance of something to a more beautiful or spiritual state. There atop the mountain, in the presence of his closest disciples, Jesus’ appearance is transfigured from flesh and blood into pure light. His face radiates with all the intensity of the sun.
That Jesus leads Peter, James, and John up a mountain is not only geographically significant but theologically significant as well. It was from a mountain that Jesus delivered his most famous sermon, and it was on a mountain that Moses met with God and received the tablets of the law. Shocking, no doubt, to the disciples, but entirely befitting the mountaintop setting, who should appear atop the mountain to witness the Transfiguration but Moses himself, and along with him the prophet Elijah. What esteemed company! Peter can hardly believe it. “Lord, it is good of us to be here,” he says to Jesus. “If you wish, I’ll set up three tents—one for you and one each for our distinguished guests.”
Peter likes it up on the mountain. He’s sharing space with two of the most preeminent figures in the history of Israel! He can hardly believe his good fortune. Not surprisingly, he wants to extend the moment as long as possible. He wants to linger there in the rarefied air of the Transfiguration. There’s no need to rush back down the mountain. “Lord, it is good for us to be here.”
By now you’ve no doubt heard my hypothesis that there is unappreciated humor throughout the Gospels. As Exhibit A I present what happens next. While Peter is still speaking, while he is saying how great it would be to set up camp on the mountain so that Jesus, Moses and Elijah can be more comfortable, a bright cloud overshadows him and a voice from the cloud interrupts him. “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
While he is still speaking! I love that detail! Poor Peter is not even allowed to finish his sentence before the voice of the Lord tells him to zip it. Silence, Peter! Yes, you are a man of action, but this moment does not call for action but rather for recognition. Peter, recognize what is happening before your very eyes. Understand what is being revealed to you. “This is my Son, the Beloved,” says the voice of the Lord. “With him I am well pleased; listen to him.”
Listen to him. I believe one of the reasons that Jesus led the disciples up the mountain was because Peter didn’t want to listen to him. I’m sorry to keep going back to the previous chapter, but we can’t fully appreciate the Transfiguration without understanding what led to it. When Jesus asked his disciples, “But who do you say that I am?” and Peter responded, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” that wasn’t the end of it. Jesus then explains to the disciples that as the Messiah he must go to Jerusalem to be handed over to the religious leaders, that he must suffer and be killed and then rise again on the third day.
Peter doesn’t want to hear it. “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you!” (Matt. 16:22). This must never happen to you. You cannot be killed, let alone crucified. You cannot suffer. You cannot die. You cannot rise again. Peter believes that he knows what’s best for Jesus, and it certainly doesn’t involve a crown of thorns and a cross. What Peter is really saying, although he doesn’t realize it, is that Jesus must not carry out the mission for which he was sent by God the Father.
If Peter had his way, there would be no forgiveness of sins, no reconciliation of sinners, no victory over sin and death. It is for this reason that Jesus, who had earlier referred to Peter as the rock upon whom he would build the church, now calls him a stumbling block. From a rock to a stumbling block in just a few verses. That’s quite a transformation! Yes, Peter, although he does not intend to do so, would cause Jesus to stumble. Just as the devil had earlier tempted Jesus in the wilderness, now Peter, in much the same way, tempts him to avoid suffering, avoid rejection, and therefore avoid the cross.
Peter can’t bring himself to accept the nature of Jesus’ mission. Yes, Jesus is the Messiah, Peter believes, but not that kind of Messiah. Not the kind that is rejected by the people and crucified. What good is a Messiah who is crucified? Of what use to us is that?
We began with the question “Who do you say that I am?” That is the question that Jesus poses to his disciples leading up to his Transfiguration. We can ask the same of ourselves. Who do we say that Jesus is? I don’t mean historically. Yes, Jesus was a Galilean Jew of the first century, a rabbi who drew the ire of the religious establishment and was crucified as a criminal by the Romans. That is the Jesus of history, but I’m asking about the Jesus of faith. Who is Jesus for you?
In this regard the light of the Transfiguration is clarifying, as much for us as it was for Peter. In the light of the Transfiguration we see Jesus for who he truly is. A prophet, yes, but more than a prophet. The Messiah, yes, but not only for Israel but for the entire world. We see God’s own Son, the Beloved, the life and light of the world.
And we see something more. The light of the Transfiguration shines not only upon Jesus but upon us as well. In his light we see ourselves as we truly are. As sinners, yes, but also as sons and daughters beloved by God. And we see the one who remains with us when we stand alone, when everything we rely on is stripped away—money, possessions, friends, family, health.
We see the one who, when life has knocked us to our knees, extends his hand to us to raise us.
We see the one who leads us down the mountain and back into the tumult of life to extend his love and compassion to a hurting world.
We see the one who who leads us into death so that he can raise us to new life.