LAST SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY

February 10 / 11, 2024

Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Warwick, R. I.

 

 

II Kings 2:1-12; Psalm 50:1-6; II Cor. 4:3-6; Mark 9:2-9

 

 

The Church’s celebration of this Last Sunday after the Epiphany calls our attention to the revelation of God’s glory – the glory of the Lord. Throughout the Sacred Scriptures, the images of flame, fire, or bright shining light—sometimes combined with dark clouds or even wind and storm—furnish the visible signs of God’s immediate presence. (Think of the clouds of thick darkness and flashes of fire that enshroud Mount Sinai when God gives the Law to Moses. Or of the tongues of fire and sound of rushing wind that fill the Upper Room on the Day of Pentecost.)

 

As the Psalmist puts it: “Out of Zion, perfect in its beauty, God reveals himself in glory. Our God will come and will not keep silence; before him there is a consuming flame, and round about him a raging storm.” Again, at the end of his earthly life, the prophet Elijah is taken up into heaven in a whirlwind by horses of fire and chariots of fire: another visible manifestation of the divine glory.

 

So when Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a high mountain apart, and is transfigured before them with resplendent light, the meaning is unmistakably clear. They behold what Saint Paul describes in today’s Epistle as “the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” It’s more than a coincidence that the two Old Testament figures who appear, Moses and Elijah, each had their own encounters with God upon mountaintops: Moses on Mount Sinai receiving the Law; and Elijah, on Mount Horeb fleeing for his life. (And I’ll have a bit more to say about that in a minute.)

 

This wonderful revelation takes place six days after Peter has confessed that Jesus is the Messiah, and Jesus has in turn foretold his own forthcoming suffering and death in Jerusalem. But having thus predicted his passion and cross, here on the mountaintop Jesus gives the three disciples a preview of the glory that awaits him after he’s risen from the dead—and by extension the glory that’s offered to us all when he raises us from the dead. No wonder that Peter says, “Master, it is well that we are here.” 

 

Some commentators suggest that Peter’s offer to make three booths, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah, represents a misguided attempt to prolong the experience or even to make it permanent. But alas, no, it’s only an anticipation, a foretaste, of the glory that’s yet to come. Before we can get to the Resurrection, it’s necessary to come down off the mountain and continue the journey.

At the beginning of this Eucharist, we prayed the Collect of the Day, which asks God to grant that beholding by faith the light of Christ’s countenance, we may be strengthened to bear our cross, and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory.

 

In this life, of course, we “behold the light of his countenance” mostly by faith and not by sight. But I suspect that at one time or another, we’ve all caught glimpses of the glory of the Lord in one form or another—else we wouldn’t be here at this service. Today’s celebration thus affords us the opportunity to call to mind those moments of epiphany and transfiguration that we’ve probably all experienced at one time or another in our own lives. Sometimes it helps to remember those moments and draw from them strength, comfort, and courage.

 

And the voice from the cloud in today’s Gospel, the voice of the Father himself, tells us what we else need to do to receive the strength to bear our cross and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory: “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to Him.” And that raises the question of where we can hear him speak to us today.

 

Jesus, the divine Word, continues to address us in multiple ways. First: in the Sacred Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments. (And incidentally, the appearance of Moses and Elijah with Jesus on the mountain signifies, among other things, the witness of the Old Testament Law and Prophets.) We hear Jesus speaking to us in the Church’s liturgy and sacraments.  We can hear him also in the prophetic voices that God raises up from time to time in the Church and in the world in our own day. (Although we do need to exercise a bit of discernment about how much of what those voices are saying really is from God.) 

 

And sometimes, just sometimes, he speaks to us as he spoke to the Prophet Elijah. You remember the story: after a forty days’ journey into the wilderness, fleeing from his enemies, Elijah arrives at Mount Horeb and hides himself in a cave. There then comes earthquake, wind, and fire; but God is not in the earthquake, wind, and fire. But in the calm following the storm, God speaks to Elijah in a still, small voice, reassuring him and telling him what to do next. So it can happen, at times of God’s choosing and not our own, that we also hear that same still small voice speaking in the depths of our hearts in moments of silence and solitude.

As this parish of Saint Mark the Evangelist continues in the coming months with all the steps and procedures associated with the search for a new Rector, these words spoken from the cloud on the Mount of Transfiguration merit and will reward frequent recollection and meditation: “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to Him.” 

 

What I mean is that during the Search Process we will hear many voices saying many things. Some of those voices will indeed be our own! And while all such voices need to be heard, listened to, and respectfully considered, it’s of paramount importance to keep our ears open for the voice of Christ, as he leads us and guides us in the directions in which he wants us to go.

 

“This is my Beloved Son; listen to Him.” If we do that, not only in the Search for a new Rector but in all the rest of our lives, then we have the assurance that beholding by faith the light of Christ’s countenance, we shall be strengthened to bear our cross, and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory.