The Feast of the Transfiguration

6 August 2023

The Feast of the Transfiguration

Preached by The Reverend Canon Richard Ames-Lewis

The traditional site of the Transfiguration of Christ is Mount Tabor, a steep mountain in Galilee, to the east of Nazareth, which at 450 meters above the plain rises higher than any of the other summits. For Jesus to take his three disciples, Peter, James and John, up there was a considerable undertaking requiring strength and determination. Indeed, St Luke suggests an eight-day journey, though this might be an exaggeration. Today, modern visitors use a minibus.

On the top of the mountain Jesus and his three disciples found a place to pray, somewhere up there close to the heavens, close to God, where an exceptional religious experience was to be unfolded. On the top of the mountain today modern visitors will find a church of exceptional beauty. This was designed by the famous architect Antonio Barluzzi and consecrated in 1924, during a period of more settled times, when the political situation encouraged the building of churches on all the holy sites of Israel and Palestine. Barluzzi, in fact, designed nine churches, including the Church of the Beatitudes by the Sea of Galilee, The Church of Dominus Flevit, the Weeping Lord, on the Mount of Olives, and the Church of all Nations in the Garden of Gethsemane. Quite a gig for an architect.

Barluzzi’s Church of the Transfiguration is a crisp stone building, and the three towers of its western façade represent the words of Peter to Jesus “Let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah – not knowing what he said” There high above the mountain are the three dwellings carved in stone, as a continual reminder of Peter’s misunderstanding.

Inside, there are dramatic lighting effects. Small windows let in shafts of bright coloured light. In the centre there is a circular floor of golden mosaic which on 6th August each year is said to be illuminated for a few minutes by a spectacular shaft of sunshine. Not only this, but the architect roofed the central crossing of the church with thin sheets of alabaster. Alabaster is a kind of marble with the unusual property of being translucent. His idea was that you would look up to the roof and would see light percolating from above, creating a beautiful heavenly lighting effect. Unfortunately, this didn’t work. Alabaster is not waterproof, and this wonderful roof has had to be covered over with something more impermeable.

What the architect was attempting was to create a building which captured something of the transfigured Christ. So, this church embodies as best it can in stone, coloured glass and alabaster a religious experience that is beyond words. It’s a failure, of course, and it stands on holy ground as a kind of parable reminding us how difficult, nay impossible, it is to comprehend an experience of God so transcendent and so ineffable.

We shall find this for ourselves as we try to fathom what actually happened at the Transfiguration. St Luke’s context for this event is important. Eight days before, Jesus has been praying alone with his disciples and he asks them “Who do the crowds say that I am?” They reply, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, and still others that one of the ancient prophets has arisen.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” And Peter answers “The Messiah of God”. Jesus then reveals to them his destiny: “the Son of Man must undergo great suffering and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” And then he issues this challenge: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves, take up their cross and follow me.”

He leads them on this pilgrimage up the mountain, as though to prove the truth of his destiny as he turns his face towards Jerusalem. “While he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.” Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, his exodos, which he was about to accomplish in Jerusalem.”

The experience of Transfiguration, where your face and clothes become filled with light, is not exclusive to Jesus. We read that Moses, as he came down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets of the Law in his hand “did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking to God”. Moreover, it has been documented that the intense devotions of saints and mystics have sometimes been accompanied by physical transformation and luminous glow. The 18th century Russian saint, Seraphim of Sarov, prayed for 12 years in solitude in his monastic cell. At the end of the 12 years, he opened his door, and it was said that as the door opened, light flowed out of his cell from his transfigured face. Perhaps we can think of St Francis praying on Mount Laverna experiencing a kind of transfiguration as he received the Stigmata.

Yet here this phenomenon is not happening to a mystic or saint. This is happening to Jesus, the Christ, the anointed one of God, called to the particular destiny of suffering, death and glory. This Jesus, regularly at prayer with his heavenly Father, is now drawn into a special relationship of closeness, demonstrated by his transfigured face and shining clothes.

The narrative is written from the point of view of Peter, James and John. I think this is helpful to us, as we can imagine ourselves praying there with the three disciples. They see the appearance of his face change, they see him talking with Moses and Elijah, they are weighed down with sleep but stay awake just enough to see the glory which surrounds him. Peter burbles about making the three dwellings, without understanding what he is saying. Then they witness the cloud overshadowing the holy mountain and, terrified, they hear the voice, “This is my Son, my chosen, listen to him.” Amidst the terror, those disciples witnessed the blessing of God on their beloved Lord.

Then let us try to imagine what this meant for Jesus himself. It must have been immensely reassuring to experience the glory of his Father God, and to meet and talk with Moses and Elijah, to see himself in the succession of the Law and the Prophets. He knew, after all, that his destiny lay in Jerusalem with the passion, crucifixion and death. These prayers on the mount of Transfiguration were a preparation for the prayers he would make in the Garden of Gethsemane when he asked for the cup to be taken from him. For him to hear the voice of God “This is my Son” must have been a huge encouragement.

But, more than this, the transfiguration on that holy mountain was a preparation for what was going to happen on the hill of Calvary. The effulgence of glory on the mountain would be followed by the clouds of darkness on the hill; the illumination of Jesus’s face and clothes would be followed by the crucifixion of his naked body.

The Gospel writers Matthew, Mark and Luke all include the story of the Transfiguration and see the connection forward to the Crucifixion. But St John does not. This is because St John sees the crucifixion of Jesus as the complete and ultimate accomplishment of glory. For John, the darkness of the cross, with all its agony and sorrow, is backlit by glory. As Jesus dies on the cross to save the whole world, his body is, as it were, transfigured by the glory which would shortly be poured out in his Resurrection.

As we kneel in our imagination with the disciples on that holy mountain, with or without the Barluzzi church, what do we pray? That through him our darkened world might be transfigured by the light of his glory? That the sorrows of our lives might be enlightened by his transfiguration and healing? That we might be shown how each of us might share with our Lord Jesus in his suffering and glory? As we heard from St Peter, “We will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in our hearts.”