LAST EPIPHANY 2025 - The Transfiguration

THE REVEREND E.WAYNE ROLLINS

 I’m a bit of a fan of television shows and movies that deal with the supernatural.
Be they somewhat campy, like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or the show named
“Supernatural,” I like watching the special effects and the often fun interpretation of the
material. Lately, instead of watching the news, I’ve been opting for something a bit less
depressing, so I’ve been watching reruns of the show Grimm. At least, in the forty-
minute span of the show, the good guys come out ahead, even if they are a bit
scratched-up.

In the show Supernatural, one season focused on heaven being closed and all the
angels suddenly cast down to earth. They remain spiritual beings while searching for a
willing, or maybe sometimes not-so-willing human being to inhabit. Some of those
humans volunteer, eager to be not just touched, but possessed by an angel. But there’s
a problem. Some of the more eager ones don’t consider a major side effect of being
inhabited by the glory of an angel. If they’re not truly worthy, they explode. That does
a lot more than just make a mess of the carpet.

That was a consideration of those gathered at the base of Mt. Sinai. As the
descendants of Jacob who bear his name, Israel, approach the mountain, its peak is
shrouded in a dark cloud. Lightning flashes, and the ground trembles with the
presence of its Creator. The people beg Moses to intercede for them, for coming too
close to God, even catching a quick glimpse, will result in death.

It’s even a bit much for Moses, whose very being is transformed after standing in
the nearer presence of God. His followers are so afraid that Moses has to start wearing
a veil when he’s with them. He removes the veil when he’s in God’s presence, like a
simple veil could prevent God from seeing Moses.

Fast forward a few millennia, and we have the story of Jesus going onto a
mountain to pray. He takes three of his closest friends with him, who witness a strange
event. Suddenly, Moses and Elijah appear, and speak with Jesus, who is himself
transformed, or as the word of the day puts it, transfigured before their very eyes. Even
his clothing is changed in a way that would make the Oxyclean guy jealous. Peter
speaks up, and then the voice of God is heard. “This is my Son. Listen to him!”
Then just as suddenly, everything appears to be normal. Not like going through
that experience is ever going to let things go back to how they were, mind you. In some
versions of this story, Jesus tells his companions to keep quiet about what they’ve seen.
Luke tells us they choose to not tell anyone. They probably needed a lot more time to
process the events of the evening.I imagine we would need some time, too. I mean,
how do you tell others about seeing the very glory of God suddenly filling a person
​you’ve been hanging around with for some time? In fact, how do you describe the
glory of God in the first place? An attribute of the One who by definition cannot be
defined is pretty much itself indescribable.

But we don’t give up. Glory is not just an attribute of God. It is an
accompanying sign that God is present. Dark clouds, lightning and thunder, and
earthquakes may not simultaneously occur, but as much as we might in human form,
we sense that something is different, and that everything is suddenly changed.
I’ve known some who say they can see auras. Personally, I seem to be more
adept at noticing the absence of such things as halos than observing them around
others. Maybe some are more attuned to those things. Sometimes I wonder if they’re
simply trying to make an impression, much like many whom I’ve heard trying to pray
in tongues but who seem to repeat nonsense syllables in a noticeable pattern.
That’s between them and God.But in a way, the effect is to do the same thing
the people of Israel asked Moses to do. The effect of the presence of God is veiled, often
to the point that no one else notices that God was even in the neighborhood. And, if
God really wanted to show up and be fully known, I’m pretty sure God could do that
despite our attempts to shield ourselves and others.

Charles Wesley wrote some familiar words about all this. We sing them at least
once a year: “Veiled in flesh the God-head see. Hail the incarnate Deity.” It’s easy for
us to explain all this away by making it only about Jesus. You probably have figured
out by now that I think there’s more to it than that, not that that isn’t enough.
We veil ourselves in many ways to keep a safe distance from the glory of God,
the presence of our Creator. We hide behind tradition, our limited understanding of the
nature of God’s being, even ceremonial garb to present ourselves before others even as
we claim to speak and act for God. Like I’ve said, it’s not that God can’t show up
despite all that and accomplish what God desires. God is already known to work
around our veils of gender and identity and skin color. Even the veil of age can’t inhibit
the glory of God. Just ask Sarah and Abraham about that when you get a chance.
I think our most dense veils are those we see with limited eyes, placing them on
others. We choose to not see the glory of God in the poor and needy, the sick and
suffering, even those who linger at the threshold of death. We want to see the glory of
God in wealth and power and the wielding thereof. But John’s Gospel, and Paul’s
teaching, puts the full manifestation of the glory of God on a lonely hill outside
Jerusalem, where a cross stood to reveal who God is for us.
​
But God didn’t stop there. Death itself was transfigured during those three
awful days. Because not even the captivity of death, or a dank, smelly tomb, could hold
back the real glory of God. When we consider that, it makes our attempts at veiling
God’s presence seem quite silly.So, once we get it together, it’s time to tell anyone who will listen about our
experiences of the glory of God. It’s time to rip off the veils we wear, and force others
to put on, and let God’s presence shine through and around us. We’ve waited long
enough.