Mark 9:1-13 (NKJV)

And He said to them, “Assuredly, I say to you that there are some standing here who will not taste death till they see the kingdom of God present with power.”

Now after six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John, and led them up on a high mountain apart by themselves; and He was transfigured before them. His clothes became shining, exceedingly white, like snow, such as no launderer on earth can whiten them. And Elijah appeared to them with Moses, and they were talking with Jesus. Then Peter answered and said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; and let us make three tabernacles: one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”— because he did not know what to say, for they were greatly afraid.

And a cloud came and overshadowed them; and a voice came out of the cloud, saying, “This is My beloved Son. Hear Him!” Suddenly, when they had looked around, they saw no one anymore, but only Jesus with themselves.

Now as they came down from the mountain, He commanded them that they should tell no one the things they had seen, till the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So they kept this word to themselves, questioning what the rising from the dead meant.

And they asked Him, saying, “Why do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?”

Then He answered and told them, “Indeed, Elijah is coming first and restores all things. And how is it written concerning the Son of Man, that He must suffer many things and be treated with contempt? But I say to you that Elijah has also come, and they did to him whatever they wished, as it is written of him.”

Poetry

from “Transfiguration”
by Mark Jarman

1.

They were talking to him about resurrection, about law,
      about the suffering ahead.
They were talking as if to remind him who he was and
      who they were. He was not
Like his three friends watching a little way off, not like
      the crowd
At the foot of the hill. A gray-green thunderhead massed
      from the sea
And God spoke from it and said he was his. They were
      talking
About how the body, broken or burned, could live again,
      remade.
Only the fiery text of the thunderhead could explain it.
      And they were talking
About pain and the need for judgement and how he would
      make himself
A law of pain, both its spirit and its letter in his own flesh,
      and then break it,
That is, transcend it. His clothes flared like magnesium,
      as they talked.

7.

I want to believe that he talked back to them, his radiant
      companions,
And I want to believe he said too much was being asked
      and too much promised.
I want to believe that that was why he shone in the eyes
      of his friends,
The witnesses looking on, because he spoke for them,
      because he loved them
And was embarrassed to learn how he and they were
      going to suffer.
I want to believe he resisted at that moment, when he
      appeared glorified,
Because he could not reconcile the contradictions
      and suspected
That love had a finite span and was merely the comfort
      of the lost.
I know he must have acceded to his duty, but I want
      to believe
He was transfigured by resistance, as he listened,
      and they talked.

The Transfiguration: A Glimpse of Christ's Glory

The art we’re offered today is a pair of photographs depicting the beautiful space of St. Catherine’s basilica. Those icon mosaics have been painstakingly designed and arranged in the lofty vault of the church. Even the apparently blank space of the marble beneath it has been carefully rendered. The alternating veins of light and dark stone that look like wings can only be made by carefully cutting thin layers from the same piece of stone and then book-matching them to achieve the symmetry of their appearance. It’s the laborious work of skilled hands guided by inspired imagination.

Did you notice that these photos come right after the passage where Peter announces they should build three tabernacles and that idea goes nowhere fast? Kind of a funny pairing, right?

Peter’s astonished anxiety pushes him in the direction of clumsy hospitality. We’re told he “didn’t know what to say” because he was so afraid. We can all say and think ridiculous things when we’re afraid. When the glory of God shines into my life, I often feel compelled to do something, and these things are often silly or ridiculous. Peter is rescued from the embarrassment of making the tabernacles by the voice of the Father: “This is my beloved Son. Hear him.” The Father instructs the stunned disciples with a perhaps stranger command: their response to the glory of Jesus and the Father’s love for him ought to be their undivided attention.

But to give this undivided attention is actually quite difficult. In his contemplation of the Sabbath, Abraham Heschel proposes that Peter’s nervous tendency typifies a broader human condition: “Shrinking, therefore, from facing time, we escape for shelter to things of space. The intentions we are unable to carry out we deposit in space…The higher goal of spiritual living is not to amass a wealth of information, but to face sacred moments.”

Facing the sacred is, of course, precisely the point of St. Catherine’s basilica: one’s eyes are drawn up to Christ, and only his eyes look back at us. To look left or right is to behold saints occupied with gazing upon the Lord. Their focus should train our own. Jarman’s poem engages a similar difficulty; facing the sacred and refusing to turn away to distractions or labor “Only the fiery text of the thunderhead could explain it. / And they were talking…His clothes flared like magnesium / as they talked.”

In the transfiguration, we see two groups of people have very different responses to facing the sacred, and this only for a moment. As astonishing as the brilliant light is—and the voice of the Father, and the appearances of Moses and Elijah—the whole event is “suddenly” over; a memory that the disciples aren’t allowed to share until after the Resurrection. The Transfiguration, like the Sabbath, means to train our hearts and our eyes to face—and delight in—sacred moments. For a day is coming when the moments will cease. We will face the sacred itself for all eternity. How will it be then for you and I when we arrive? Will we be able to stand still? Or will we become uncomfortable and grow desperate for something to do.

Prayer

Oh Lord of light, instruct my heart with joy and peace in your presence so that I may learn to cherish what is sacred here and now in this mortal life. Teach me to cherish these glimpses so that I may, with your aid, become fit to abide always with You when these moments become unbroken eternity in the world that is to come.

Dr. Phillip Aijian
Adjunct Professor
Torrey Honors College
Biola University

For more information about the artwork, music, and poetry selected for this day, we have provided resources under the “About” tab located next to the “Devotional” tab near the top of the page.