Transfiguration: SALT's Commentary for Transfiguration Sunday
Transfiguration Sunday (Year A): Matthew 17:1-9 and Exodus 24:12-18
Big Picture:
1) This is the last week of the Season of Epiphany; Lent begins next week. For Matthew, the Transfiguration is in many ways the mother of all epiphany stories (“epiphany” means “showing forth”), since it reveals Jesus as a prophet par excellence, and above all, as God’s beloved child.
2) In the verses preceding this passage, Jesus has just articulated what is arguably his most disturbing, difficult teaching of all: that he must suffer, die, and rise again — and that anyone who wishes to follow him must “deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Mt 16:24). The Transfiguration’s light, then, acts as a kind of reassurance for Peter, John, and James (and for the rest of us!). It’s as if Matthew is saying: We’re now making the turn toward Golgotha, and that means descending into the valley of the shadow of death. But fear not! Keep this astonishing, mysterious mountaintop story in mind as we go. Carry it like a torch, for it can help show the way — not least because it gives us a glimpse of where all this is headed...
3) By Matthew’s day, many Jews considered Elijah to be an eschatological figure whose return would signal the imminent end of the age (see, for example, Malachi 4:5-6); in that sense, Elijah was among the most prestigious of prophets. And Moses, of course, was thought to be the author of the Torah. Together, then, Moses and Elijah personified “the law and the prophets,” the sacred scriptural tradition we’ve seen Jesus expounding over the last few weeks in the “Sermon on the Mount.”
Scripture:
1) Jesus often retreats into the mountains alone to pray, but this time he invites Peter, John, and James (one of the first Christian worship services!), as if he has something he wants to teach them.
2) The conspicuously precise timestamp — “Six days later” — is likely a poetic allusion to the “six days” Moses spends in the cloud atop Mount Sinai before God calls out to him (Exodus 24:15-16). Likewise, the shining garments recall Moses’ radiance when he descended from Sinai (Exodus 34:29-35), and at the same time anticipate the angel’s white robe in the empty tomb to come (Matthew 28:3; see also, e.g., Rev 7:9). Finally, the story's cloud and divine voice also evoke the portrait of God's presence in Exodus 24. In this way, Matthew casts this mountaintop encounter with God in terms of Israel’s classic paradigm, thus positioning his “good news” within the broad sweep of salvation history.
3) What happens up there? It’s beyond explanation, of course, but at its heart it’s a vision of a mysterious, heavenly realm, and indeed of the world to come. Time and space seem to collapse; the world somehow becomes incandescent; and Jesus is suddenly seen engaging Israel’s two most prestigious figures in collegial conversation.
4) The disciples are overwhelmed and afraid, and Peter (never at a loss for words!) stammers a suggestion: Shall we build you three tents? It's a bumbling, endearing proposal, if a bit tone-deaf and presumptuous (after all, if these three wanted shelter, they likely would have made arrangements!). Is Peter thinking of the Greek custom of building a shrine at the site of a god’s appearance? Or of the Festival of Booths, commemorating the Exodus and the Israelites’ makeshift shelters in the wilderness? Is he trying to corral the astounding marvel into something more manageable, more domesticated? Arrogantly attempting to “play host” to three sacred celebrities? Or is he simply at a loss, grasping for something to say, something to offer?
5) Emanating from a cloud, God’s voice reprises the message at Jesus’ baptism (Mt 3:17). And yet, even with his identity reconfirmed in spectacular fashion, Jesus nevertheless orders his three disciples to keep it a secret until after he has been “raised from the dead” (Mt 17:9). For Matthew, true messiahship comes not with trumpets and chariots, but rather in the deeply hidden form of a suffering servant — and accordingly, it must remain hidden until after the resurrection and ascension, the ultimate Epiphany. It won’t be long now: the end of the age is at hand, Elijah has come in the form of John the Baptist, and now the Child of Humanity, God’s Beloved, turns his face toward Jerusalem.
6) The Transfiguration ends as abruptly as it began. The two older figures suddenly vanish, and the disciples find themselves with Jesus alone. Matthew’s message here isn’t that Jesus somehow eclipses or supersedes Moses and Elijah, but rather that he stands in profound kinship and continuity with them, both carrying on and culminating their work. In other words, Jesus “succeeds” them — and just as Elisha’s succession of Elijah involves not a demotion but rather an exaltation of the elder figure, so too with Jesus. Matthew honors Moses and Elijah in this story, even as Jesus steps forward as God’s Beloved, the One to whom the disciples are called to listen.
Takeaways:
1) In the context of the overall narrative, Matthew’s central point in the Transfiguration story is this: the coming suffering and death of Jesus may at first appear as an unthinkable, desecrating defeat, but it’s actually a step toward a dramatic, subversive victory. Jesus will now venture into the shadows of death — precisely in order to scatter those shadows once and for all, overcoming them in the end with shimmering light. Jesus will go down into the depths of what can only be called godforsaken — precisely in order to lift the world up into renewed intimacy with God, the sort of intimacy familiar to Moses (the one who “knew God face to face” and even “mouth to mouth” (Deut 34:10; Num 12:8)); familiar to Elijah (the one who heard God in “the sound of sheer silence” (1 Kings 19:12)); and familiar to Jesus, God’s begotten child. So: take heart! And “listen to him” — that is, continue to trust and walk with Jesus, following in his footsteps and taking up his mantle, even though the path ahead now seems strewn with danger and disgrace. A new Jubilee, a new Exodus is dawning, and radiant beauty awaits — on the other side of Golgotha.
2) Think of this passage itself as a high “mountain” in the midst of Matthew’s Gospel. On one side, we climb up through stories of Jesus’ healing, liberating ministry. And on the other side, we’ll descend down to Jerusalem. This week, we arrive at a clearing on the mountaintop — and from here we can survey both how far we’ve come and the Lenten journey ahead.
3) Epiphany concludes today: Jesus has "shown forth" to be a healer and a liberator, a teacher and a shining prophet. Peter has just called him “the Messiah” (Matthew 16:16). But most fundamentally and decisively, he is God’s beloved child. His path of love will lead down into the valley, through the dry cinders of Ash Wednesday and the tears of the Via Dolorosa, the Way of Sorrow. But this week, from here where we stand on the mountaintop, we can survey the 40 days of Lent, take a deep breath — and remember that the journey through ashes and sorrow is never for its own sake. It's for the sake of what comes next. In a word, it's for the sake of transfiguration, a radiant new life and a dazzling new world.