Down the mountain

The story of the transfiguration as it is described by Luke is full of allusions or imagery that can be found throughout the Hebrew scriptures, making a mystical event all the more significant for the history in which it is steeped. First, we have a mountain – the place where significant things happen, where God is often encountered, where the Divine often breaks through. The same could be said for the cloud, clouds were often used to describe or represent God’s presence. There is the appearance of Moses and Elijah, prophets who like Jesus knew what it was like to be doubted, maybe even hated, as they attempted to communicate God’s wishes to God’s people, and whose lives also ended in very unique ways. Jesus’ own unique end is foreshadowed here as Luke tells us the prophets were speaking to him “of his departure which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” And then there is the transfiguration itself, the change in his face and the dazzling brightness of his clothes, referencing the change in the face of Moses when he talked with God. And let’s not forget the voice of God speaking from the cloud, something that occurred not only for great prophets, but also at Jesus’ baptism. Something truly significant is happening here, something that connects their present with what has come before, and even if Peter and James and John do not understand what that is, they may at least appreciate that they have witnessed something transformative. As Jesus brought them up the mountain to pray with him, they are coming back down that mountain knowing that God is at work in the world.

As always, Peter is the one to rush ahead and try to do something, anything, about what he sees taking place around him. His suggestion to build dwellings may have been about recognizing the sacredness of that moment, or about hospitality, or even, what feels most true to me, about not wanting the moment to end. Just before Jesus had taken Peter, James and John up the mountain to pray, he had been speaking with his disciples about what was coming next for him and what the call to discipleship meant. Peter had confessed that Jesus is the Christ and been told that Jesus would suffer for this; this is the first time in Luke that Jesus predicts the events of his Passion to come. And the disciples are told that those who follow Jesus should take up their cross and they should expect to suffer too. This was clearly not what Peter had been expecting. What a roller coaster ride it must have been for him, for suffering to be predicted and then to see Jesus transformed in the midst of Moses and Elijah in glory. He might even have thought, “now, that’s more like it!” But then as soon as it happened, Jesus walked away from it.

Hearing that Peter did not know what he was saying, it can be tempting to look at him and think “there he goes again” bumbling along, not quite getting it. When we see him that way, we forget of course, all the things that we know now that Peter didn’t know then. We know how this story ends, or rather how it doesn’t end. We’ve read it, we’ve studied it, we’ve listened to the sermons. Given all this, it would not be fair to judge Peter for his apparent ineptitude. We might be better off learning to see ourselves in him. As I’ve been thinking about this passage this week, I’ve been seeing a lot of myself in Peter.

For instance, I can deeply understand his desire to stay above the fray, to remain off to the side and away from the action, away from the pain and suffering around me, and most especially, away from not knowing what to do about it. Making sense of the world right now feels as difficult as it did during the early days of the pandemic. There is so much uncertainty again, so much fear and despair, so many things that don’t work the way they used to, and so many people who feel so far away from and confused by loved ones they used to hold close and understand. At work I find myself encouraging people to maybe limit the amount of news they expose themselves to, while I find myself scrolling through that same news and not falling asleep at night. Yeah, I get it Peter, let’s just stay here a little longer.

But the difference between us and Peter is that Peter doesn’t know the resurrection is coming, he doesn’t really know what that will mean. He doesn’t know that that moment of transformation he witnessed on the mountain is an ongoing, ever-unfolding transformation and we are all living in it. From the time of creation, God has been calling us back into relationship, with God and with one another, first through the prophets and then through the incarnation, through the death and resurrection of Jesus. Though Peter may understand up on that mountain that the way he sees the world is nothing like the way Jesus sees the world, he doesn’t yet know that death is not the end, hasn’t yet grasped that God is so fully in charge, pain and suffering are not the end either.

This makes it all the more astonishing to me that Peter followed Jesus down the mountain. Peter didn’t know that this story doesn’t end, but he walked side by side with Jesus anyway. When Jesus, Peter, James and John got back down off the mountain, the first thing they were confronted with was a child who needed healing. And the disciples couldn’t heal him. But they didn’t stop. They continued to listen to Jesus, he continued to teach them, and they kept following him. If I can see myself in Peter’s desire to step away from the need in the world and remain for a moment longer in the presence of the Divine, I can only hope to see myself in his faithfulness, in his choice to step back into that world in need, trusting as I can that the transformative power of the resurrection will make all things right. This reminds me of one of our Eucharistic prayers. In encountering the resurrected Jesus in the Eucharist, we hear words similar to those Peter himself may have been thinking on his way down the mountain: “Lord God of our Fathers; God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ: Open our eyes to see your hand at work in the world about us. Deliver us from the presumption of coming to this Table (or mountain) for solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal. Let the grace of this Holy Communion (or Transfiguration) make us one body, one spirit in Christ, that we may worthily serve the world in his name.” As much as we might like to linger here, for solace, for pardon, God calls us to more than that. God calls us to transformation, not only within us but within our relationships, within our communities. For that, we must follow Peter’s example and linger no more. Amen.