Whatever else the Transfiguration is about, it is about glory. Peter and James and John saw the glory of the Lord on that high mountain apart. They saw the glory of God in the face of their friend and teacher as he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his garments became white as light.
Matthew's account of the Transfiguration is a good passage to hear today, not only because it is the Second Sunday of Lent, but also because our delayed Annual General Meeting will take place this morning.
First, let us think about the Transfiguration in terms of this Lenten season. It is easy to be a little gloomy about Lent; easy to think of it as a long haul devoid of treats, something to be got through somehow before the corks are popped and the chocolates unwrapped on Easter Day. To think of it thus would be to miss something. This struck me quite forcibly during the Stations of the Cross on Friday afternoon.
To walk the way of the cross, from the first station when Jesus is condemned to death to the last, when his body is laid in the tomb, can be a powerful and moving experience. It is a prolonged meditation on suffering. As we walk with Jesus, we bring with us the baggage of suffering that we carry. Not just personal suffering - illness, bereavement, estrangement - but the suffering of the world - war, famine, disaster.
The way of the cross is about Jesus, of course; but it is not just about Jesus. It is about us too, and our world, our times. This is part of the glory, the glory of the Incarnation; part of God being involved in our world and our lives at the very level of flesh and blood. Jesus was born into our world, born a human being, one of us. He really did experience our joys and our sorrows.
He experienced the suffering of the world, our world, in his body. And by his Incarnation, he filled the world with the transfiguring glory of God. The glory is there as he is condemned to death, as his back strains under the weight of the cross, as he stumbles on the way, as he meets his mother, as a woman wipes his face, as he is stripped of his garments, as his hands and feet are nailed to the cross, as he dies between two thieves. The glory of God is there every bit as much as on the mountain of transfiguration.
Just now, I said that this struck me in a particular way last Friday afternoon. Let me try to explain. I have followed the liturgical way of the cross on many occasions, have been moved - sometimes to tears - by the suffering of Jesus and by the suffering of God's people ever since that painful walk to Calvary. For those who are following the events, it can be a dark walk indeed, ending with a tomb, a burial; ending with an ending.
Even though we know about Easter Day, it still feels like an end, a dark and empty place: a place of fear and shadows. Something happened on Friday, as we walked around the church, as we listened to the consideration at each station, as we prayed together before moving on. I was struck, as if for the first time, by the word 'resurrection' as it kept recurring in the collects we used. It was as if shafts of brilliant light kept piercing the darkness. It was as if the darkness itself was transfigured, lit up with the glory of God.
The resurrection has always been there; the words have always been there. Sometimes, though, you just can't see what it is that you are staring at. Sometimes, you just can't see what is before your eyes; or who.
Peter and James and John didn't see it; didn't see him; not at first, anyway. Peter rushing in, speaking before thinking as usual: "Lord, it is well that we are here; if you wish, I will make three booths here, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah."
I love the line that follows: he was still speaking, when lo, a bright cloud overshadowed them... Peter, rushing about, speaking, not seeing. What can God do to attract his attention, make him stop and see what is there? What he does is cover them with a cloud and speak directly to them, spelling it out, almost - as they say - in words of one syllable: "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him."
It has the desired effect: Peter shuts up and falls to the ground with James and John. Jesus comes and touches them and speaks to them... and they see him. They see Jesus, the glory of God incarnate; finally they actually see him. As Matthew puts it: When they lifted up their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus only.
Of course, that wasn't it; that wasn't the end. Peter still got it wrong; Peter still had the three-fold betrayal ahead of him. But they had seen, they had experienced the glory of God - in their lives, in the world, in their time.
Something like that happened to me, in a small way, on Friday afternoon, beginning at the sixth station. The woman wiping the face of Jesus does not come from the gospel accounts, but rather from what we might call pious legend. She has been called Veronica, the name coming from two words: vera icon, meaning true image, for the legend has it that the imprint of Christ's face was left on her towel.
In the form of the Stations we normally use, there is no mention of Veronica. Though it seems perfectly likely that at some point that day, someone wiped his face with a cloth, it is not the miraculous image that is important; only the face, the face of Christ. It is the encounter that matters, seeing Christ. I began this sermon with the versicle and response we use at the sixth station:
Show us the light of your face; show us your glory; and we shall be saved. We just need to see him, see his glory, and we shall be saved. Surely this is what Lent is about: turning towards the Lord, trying to see his face? Surely Lent is about being transfigured.
But what about the AGM? How is the Transfiguration appropriate for the annual meeting, for the receiving of accounts and electing of representatives, for remembering what the last twelve months held and what the next twelve might bring?
It is all to do with the glory of God, the hidden glory of God Incarnate, the God who is involved in our world, our times, our lives - even in the minutiae of parish life. And it is about giving us a perspective, as it gave Peter a perspective: too much talking and getting worked up about things can lead us to miss what's most important, what's right there under our noses.
It can remind us, today of all days, that what we are really called to do is to proclaim the glory of the Incarnation; to listen to Jesus; to bear the suffering of our fellow human beings, each one of them made in the true image of God.
Sermon by: Jonathan Mason