LAST SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY, YEAR A

February 15, 2026

Saints Matthew and Mark, Barrington, R. I.

 

Exodus 24:12-18

2 Peter 1:16-21

Matthew 17:1-9

 

One of the persistent questions in religion and philosophy is how we can attain true knowledge of God. Some thinkers argue that because God is infinite, we can never fully know God. For God’s reality infinitely surpasses anything that our finite minds can grasp.

 

From this premise, it follows that all our names and images for God are arbitrary symbols or metaphors that fall short of the divine reality they attempt to depict. Some conclude that no single religion can bring us any closer to God’s infinite mystery than any other—because all religious teachings are futile attempts to express the inexpressible. Others conclude that if we find the traditional language and images for God unhelpful, we’re free to modify them in ways better suited to our imaginations because, after all, they’re only metaphors. God can only be truly known, if at all, in the depths of mystical experience transcending all words and images.

 

While I recognize that many mystics do genuinely experience the divine, nonetheless, I believe the approach I’ve just described is fundamentally mistaken. It misses the point on a grand scale. C. S. Lewis once said that talking about the human search for God is a bit like talking about the mouse’s search for the cat. It gets things completely the wrong way round.

 

For true knowledge of the transcendent God can never come as our own achievement, but only when this God freely chooses to reveal himself to us. As the Swiss theologian Emil Brunner once put it, “By God alone can God be known.” And the fundamental premise of traditional monotheistic religion is that the unknown and unknowable God has indeed made Himself known to us in ways accommodated to our limited human capacities.

 

Today’s scripture readings illustrate how God reveals Himself. In the Old Testament reading, the holy God of Israel appears to Moses and the Israelites on Mount Sinai. Then, in the Epistle and Gospel readings, He reveals Himself to the disciples Peter, James, and John on the Mount of the Transfiguration.

 

When we were children, we might have been taught the mnemonic “Stop, look, and listen.” Or perhaps: “Stop, look, listen, and learn.” We see that pattern in today’s readings. 

 

First: stop. God’s self-revelation follows a pause in people’s regular activities. The Israelites stop at the foot of Mount Sinai, and God bids Moses to come up on the mountain and wait. Similarly, Jesus interrupts his journey to Jerusalem to take Peter, James, and John up a high mountain apart—traditionally identified as Mount Tabor in southern Galilee. Likewise, we need to pause periodically to allow God to reveal his presence to us.

 

Stop, then look. In both cases, there follows a vision of God’s glory. A cloud covers Mount Sinai, and the glory of the Lord appears “like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel.” Similarly, on Mount Tabor, Jesus is transfigured by the light of divine glory before the three disciples. His face shines like the sun; his garments become white as light; Moses and Elijah, two of the great figures from Israel’s sacred history, appear talking with him; and a bright cloud overshadows them all.

 

In both cases, the supernatural phenomena of cloud, light, and fire serve as visual signs of God’s presence, known in Hebrew as kabod, in Greek as doxa, and in English as glory. The point is that we begin to know God only when God chooses to reveal His presence in specific times and places. It might not happen as dramatically as in today’s readings, but I believe most of us can remember moments in our lives when we felt God’s presence and knew He was near. Otherwise, it’s unlikely that we’d be here in church this morning.

 

But God’s revelation of Himself doesn’t end with what we see. In the Bible, God never appears just to give people meaningful spiritual experiences. That’s not quite how it works. Instead, the consistent pattern is that God makes his presence known when he has something to say to us. So, after we stop and look, it’s time to listen.

 

On Mount Sinai, the fire and cloud serve as the prelude to God's gift of the Law, given through Moses to the children of Israel and inscribed on two stone tablets. Similarly, in the Gospel reading, the vision reaches its climax when the voice speaks from the cloud: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him.” In both cases, God is effectively saying, “Now I’ve got your attention: Listen up!” The revelation of God’s glory prepares us to hear God’s Word. 

 

The challenge for us today is to come to church, say our prayers, and read our Bibles in the lively expectation not only that God has something to say, but also that we have something to learn from Him. And we need to stay alert to what God is teaching us not only in church and in our devotional lives, but also in the world around us, for God reveals himself there in countless, myriad ways. So, there we have it: stop, look, listen, and learn.

 

But there’s more. Even hearing and understanding God’s Word isn’t the end of the process. For the Israelites camped at Mount Sinai, the giving of the Law was just the beginning of their journey. The long, forty-year trek to the Promised Land still lay ahead. Similarly, for the disciples, the Lord’s Transfiguration wasn’t the end of their journey. They were still on the way to Jerusalem, where they would experience the Lord’s betrayal, arrest, trial, death, and resurrection. That’s why we observe the Transfiguration on the Last Sunday after Epiphany, as we prepare to begin our own liturgical journey through the Season of Lent toward Holy Week and Easter. 

 

So, to return to our original question: We come to know God best when we respond to Him in faith by following wherever He leads. It’s a dynamic process in which God always takes the initiative, but in which we also have our own clear roles to play. 

 

Stop, look, listen, and learn—then follow! And when the going gets tough, as it inevitably will, those initial moments of epiphany and transfiguration give us the courage we need to keep going by offering a foretaste of the glory that awaits us at our journey’s end.