Rev. Kelli Whitman Text—Matthew 17:1-9
After six days Jesus took with him Peter, James and John the brother of James, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. 2 There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light. 3 Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus.
4 Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.”
5 While he was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!”
6 When the disciples heard this, they fell facedown to the ground, terrified. 7 But Jesus came and touched them. “Get up,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.” 8 When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.
9 As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus instructed them, “Don’t tell anyone what you have seen, until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
“The story we have just heard defies interpretation, although that has not stopped legions of interpreters from trying.” That’s how Barbara Brown Taylor begins her sermon on this story of Jesus’ transfiguration.[1] She continues, “It describes something so beyond ordinary human experience that most of us are perfectly content to watch it from at least this far away.”
The text itself is strangely straightforward as it describes this mystical, startling encounter on the mountain—“There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light.”
But there was nothing ordinary or straightforward about what Peter, James and John experienced that day on the mountain.
Again, Barbara Brown Taylor imagines what went through the disciples minds when Jesus is suddenly transformed right before their eyes:
And there he is: someone you thought you knew really well, standing there pulsing with light, leaking light everywhere. Face like a flame. Clothes dazzling white. Then, as if that weren't enough, two other people are there with him, all of them standing in that same bright light. Who are they? Can't be. Moses. Elijah. Dead men come back to life. God's own glory, lighting up the night. Now they're leaving. Now Peter's saying something.
Then a voice from the cloud lifts the hairs on the back of your neck. Fear so fast and primitive, you're bristling like a dog. What's the voice saying? Not "listen to me" but "listen to him." The Son, the Beloved. But listen to what? He's not saying anything. He's shining. Or at least he was. Now he's not. Now it's over. Now what?
This is an experience that defies explanation and reason—an experience that turns Peter into a babbling mess who wants to build tents, and leaves all three disciples with their faces in the dirt, overwhelmed by fear and confusion.
This is an experience that defies explanation. But if you consider all that has happened to this point in Matthew’s gospel, it’s not hard to imagine that the disciples were already feeling anxious and unsure about what was next in Jesus’ ministry.
This moment on the mountain comes at a pivotal point in Jesus’ ministry—he’s drawing increased criticism from the religious leaders as larger and larger crowds flock to hear him preach and to be healed. Just a few days earlier, Jesus warned the disciples that he expected to suffer and die at the hands of those who opposed him. This journey that began with a promise to fish for people, and a call to bear God’s light to the world was becoming more challenging. Maybe this was more than the disciples had bargained for when they left the safety of their fishing boats.
And now Jesus is glowing, and they’re seeing visions of long dead prophets, and a voice is speaking from the clouds. It’s no wonder the disciples end up face down in the dirt, trembling with fear.
And then, just when it seems the fear of the moment, and worries they’ve carried up the mountain might overtake them, the disciples hear another voice. A familiar voice.
“Don’t be afraid.”
It’s Jesus. The Jesus they’ve followed to this point. The Jesus they know and trust.
“Don’t be afraid.”
They’re words we’ve heard before. David Lose thinks they are the most important words in all of Scripture.
“Think about it,” he says. “These words -- “do not be afraid” -- are the hallmark of the Gospel, as throughout Old and New Testaments they signal the coming rescue of God and consequent courage that promise creates.”
They are the words that Gabriel speaks to Mary when she learns that she will be Jesus’ mother.
They are the words the angel choir speaks to the shepherds keeping watch in Bethlehem the night Jesus is born.
They are the words the angel speaks to the women who come looking for Jesus’ body on Easter morning.
Do not be afraid. It’s time to leave the mountain and continue the work we’ve begun—trusting the one who calls us beloved.
Kate Murphy writes about the challenges of serving as the pastor of The Grove, a Presbyterian congregation in downtown Charlotte, North Carolina.
She writes about the fear and uncertainty of being a church in a changing neighborhood, a church that is trying a new thing but struggles to sustain itself. She writes about the struggle to be not afraid, to trust the Jesus who led them to this place and has promised to go with them into the future.
“As I write this,” Kate shares, “my office is thick with the perfume. A new friend brought me a pungent flower which sits in an empty mason jar. She told me she’d been trying and trying to grow ginger, but she couldn’t find seeds. One day a stranger stopped to admire her beautiful garden and said, ‘What a beautiful wild ginger plant you have growing there.’ The whole time she had been searching, the plant she was seeking was already growing in her garden. She didn’t plan it, she didn’t plant it, she didn’t even recognize it, but she receives it now, as she receives every good thing, as a gift from the Lord who made the very first garden.”[2]
In the midst of her congregation’s fears and struggles, Jesus’ voice reaches out from the scent of the wild ginger. “Don’t be afraid.” We’ll travel on together. We’ll face whatever comes next together.
Like the disciples, all of us have carried fears and doubts with us this morning. Like the disciples, we’ve watched our lives and the world around us change, and we wonder what will come next. Sometimes the changes threaten to overwhelm us, and it is tempting to bury our faces in the dirt. But on this last Sunday of the Epiphany season, let us hang onto the familiar promises of Jesus, “You are beloved. Don’t be afraid. Listen to me. We’ll go back down the mountain together.” Amen.