To the Valley Below
Luke 9:28-36
The church where Sandy and I were married was an Episcopal parish in New York City whose English Neo-Gothic style building looked like it was dropped from the English countryside into the middle of 29th St. between Fifth and Madison Avenues. Part of the Anglo-Catholic movement within the Episcopal Church, the church felt more Catholic than the Catholic church I attended in my youth. There was even a statue of Mary!
Almost since its founding, the church has been known primarily by its nickname, The Little Church Around the Corner. Even now the church’s web address is littlechurch.org. The official name of the church is much more traditional and appropriately theological: The Church of the Transfiguration.
The last Sunday before Lent, which begins on Wednesday, is known as Transfiguration Sunday. “Transfiguration” is a fancy five-dollar word referring to a change in form or appearance. In the passage we just heard, Jesus’ appearance is transfigured atop the mountain. Luke writes that “the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning.” In the full light of his glory, Jesus the rabbi, the teacher, is revealed by God the Father to be God’s Son, God’s Chosen. This is the essence of the Transfiguration—to see Christ clearly in his divinity.
The transfiguration marks a turning point in the life of Jesus and in the Gospel of Luke. Peter, James, and John, who form an inner circle among the twelve disciples, witness this event. They see Moses and Elijah. They shield their eyes from the glory that emanates from Jesus. They shudder at the voice of God that says of Jesus, “This is my Son.” If there had been any doubt, any uncertainty in their minds, about who Jesus was, they now know. He is not just a rabbi, a teacher, not merely the carpenter’s son but God’s Son.
This is the essence of the Transfiguration—
to see Christ clearly in his divinity.
The transfiguration also marks a turning point in Luke’s Gospel. Prior to the transfiguration, from the disciples’ point of view everything had been going pretty well. True, Jesus had some moral teachings that were hard to wrap your mind around—that whole “blessed are the poor” thing and all the talk about loving your enemies.
But aside from that, following Jesus has been like being in the entourage of a rock star. Everywhere he goes crowds wait to hear him speak. People jostle just to get close to him in the hope that they might be able to touch even the hem of his robe. With every miraculous healing and exorcism, his fame grows even greater.
But all of that is about to change, and at the very moment that the disciples have climbed the mountain, just as their association with Jesus seems to have reached its high point. I mean, they have front-row seats to Moses and Elijah! Do you know how hard it is to get those tickets? But after this mountaintop experience, it’s going to be mostly downhill from here on out, literally, of course, but also figuratively. When Jesus leads the disciples down from the mountain, he will set his face to go to Jerusalem where he will be crucified. He will come down the mountain only to enter the valley of the shadow of death.
But before going there, let’s rewind a bit, because between last week’s reading of Luke 6 and today’s reading from chapter 9, we’ve skipped an important piece of the story. The passage beings with Luke writing, “Now about eight days after these sayings….” What Luke’s referring to are some hard truths that Jesus explained to the disciples. Yes, he was the Messiah, as Peter had boldly affirmed, but that meant for Jesus not earthly glory but rather condemnation, not celebration but suffering, not a royal crown but a Roman cross. He was not going to Jerusalem to crush his enemies; he was going there to die for them.
The second truth was not any easier for the disciples to accept. In fact, it might’ve been even harder. “If any want to become my followers,” Jesus told them, “let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). What he was sharing with them was that while the cross would mark the end of his earthly ministry, it would also be the starting point for discipleship.
Do you understand how absurd that sounds? Maybe not. After all, we are so far removed from the horror of Roman crucifixion. Some of us might wear a cross necklace. There’s a large cross affixed to the organ pipes behind me. For us the cross is a symbol of our faith in Jesus Christ.
Not so for the disciples. For them the cross was a symbol of terror. Crucifixion occurred out in the open for all to see. It was designed to terrorize. The cross served as a warning to everyone under Roman authority of what happened to those who resisted that authority.
So, when Jesus told the disciples to take up their cross daily, I don’t see how they could have had any idea what he was talking about. It’s no surprise that Luke doesn’t mention anything of their response. I imagine them looking at each other in bewilderment afraid to say anything, because what do you say when your teacher tells you that following him amounts to a death sentence?
In that case, how relieved Peter, James, and John must have been to be invited to accompany Jesus up the mountain to pray. Perhaps a change of scenery would dispel from them any lingering queasiness about this cross talk.
And you know what? They were right! Because while Jesus is praying, and while they are struggling to stay awake, the appearance of Jesus’ face changes, radiating light, and his clothes become as bright as lightning. Although the disciples’ eyelids are heavy with sleep, they manage to see two men talking with Jesus. The light of the glory emanating from Jesus shines upon them as well. Luke writes that the two men, Moses and Elijah, were speaking to Jesus about his “exodus,” which he was about to fulfill in Jerusalem.
Yes, the Greek word that Luke uses is literally “exodus.” Other versions of the Bible say that Jesus spoke of his “departure,” as though he were in the airport lounge waiting for his flight. The King James Bible says that Jesus “spake of his decease.” The 17th-century parlance may sound awkward to our 21st-century ears, but the meaning is correct. The exodus that Moses and Elijah are speaking about is not Jesus’ departure to Jerusalem but the death that he will face there.
Jesus has not held back from the disciples the fact that he is going to Jerusalem to be crucified. He has just told them as much. Therefore it’s no surprise that what catches their attention when they awake is not this talk of Jesus’ “exodus” but rather the glory that they see radiating from him. Peter likes what he sees. Ever the first among the disciples to speak, he says to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us set up three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”
Peter wants to set up camp. Who can blame him? It’s nice up on the mountain. The air is crisp, there’s a great view, and all the problems of the world seem miles away somewhere down in the distant valley below. Peter has a point. And Peter wants to honor this exalted company. Peter is just being a gracious host. Peter didn’t realize what he was saying!
I love how Luke drops that last part in there. Peter is like, Jesus, it’s good that we’re all here. Let’s enjoy the moment and camp out for a bit. I’ll set up three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah…“not realizing what he was saying.” Not realizing what he was saying!
What Peter was saying was that Moses and Elijah and Jesus were all of the same kind, equal partners in God’s service. Moses represented the law, Elijah represented the prophets who call the people back to the law, and Jesus represented…what exactly? You see, Peter doesn’t see. He doesn’t yet see Jesus for who he is, not just rabbi, teacher, friend, and even Messiah, but Savior, Lord, and Son of God.
Not only does Peter not realize what he’s saying, but while he’s in mid sentence God sends a cloud to cover him and get him put a lid on it. “While he was saying this,” Luke writes, “a cloud came and overshadowed them, and they were terrified as they entered the cloud.” Yes, to get Peter to be quiet, God has to turn on the fog machine and cue the thunder.
It’s easy to find the humor in Peter’s compulsive need to be doing something—anything—but the church can be so much like Peter. The church acts just like Peter every time we speak of ourselves as working with God to establish God’s kingdom, as though God can’t accomplish his purposes without us. Spring training is underway, so let’s use a metaphor from baseball. It’s as though God hit a triple and we just need to bring the runner home. God did his part, now we must do ours.
We want a savior who will fight for us,
but we need a savior who will die for us.
The church acts like Peter every time we think that we must justify ourselves in the eyes of God or in the eyes of the world. Come on! Just look at all the good we’re doing! All the programs we offer. All the people we serve.
The church acts like Peter every time we focus on what we must do for God rather than what God has done and is doing for us.
We so want to put the focus on ourselves—anything to shield us from the cross. But what the light of Jesus’ transfiguration reveals is that there is no glory without the cross. There is no grace without sacrifice. Jesus ascends the mountain, but his destination is the valley below.
This is a hard truth to accept. It’s hard because of what it says about God and what it says about us. Like the disciples, we want a savior who takes us to the mountaintop, not one who leads us into the valley of death. We want a savior who will fight for us and for our cause, for our side. We want a savior who will defeat our enemies. We want a savior who will come in power and glory so that some of that glory will shine upon us.
The truth is this: We want a savior who will fight for us, but we need a savior who will die for us. We need a savior who will enter the valley of death for our sake because that’s where our sin has led us. We need a savior whose light dispels the darkness that overshadows us and whose blood transfigures us from sinners to saved, from broken to blessed, from dead people walking to those who are raised to new life in Jesus Christ.