When Glory meets Change (Matthew 17:1-9)

The story of the Transfiguration takes place between two of Jesus’ predictions of his suffering and death. It stands like a radiant pause between announcements of impending change. Change frames this entire story, and perhaps that is the first lesson for us. Change, whether on the mountaintop of joy or in the valley of the shadow of death, is not optional. It is the landscape of every human life. In times of change, many voices begin to speak. Some come from outside us, commentators, critics, pundits, and prophets of doom. Others rise from within, fear, self-doubt, regret, second guessing, blame, and denial. Some voices urge us to run and hide, while others tell us to fight and control. Some demand explanations, and others insist that everything is ending. The noise can be overwhelming and confusing. Yet in the Transfiguration there is only one voice that truly matters. From the bright cloud comes the voice of God saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him.” In the midst of change, we are invited to listen, not to every anxious whisper, but to Christ. When we listen to him, we begin to see that no change has the final word over our lives.

 

Listening, however, is only the beginning. When the disciples fall to the ground overwhelmed with fear, Jesus comes to them, touches them, and says, “Get up.” The word he uses carries the echo of resurrection. This is not simply a command to stand on their feet. It is a promise that fear will not define them and that what feels like an ending is not the end. We all know changes that knock us down. Loss, illness, failure, shattered expectations, and global crises can leave us disoriented and unsure of who we are or where we are going. Sometimes the change itself is not clearly good or bad; it simply unsettles us. We lose our footing and wonder whether life as we knew it has ended. Into those very circumstances Christ comes to us as well. He touches us in our confusion and says, “Be raised.” Life may have changed, but it has not ended. New life is often hidden within the very place that feels like loss. God does not necessarily cause the changes that wound us, but God wastes nothing. Every circumstance can become material for resurrection.

 

Suffering, as painful as it is, has a mysterious capacity to draw us into oneness. We see it at gravesides and in times of communal tragedy. For a moment, divisions fall away and we remember that we belong to one another. The image of a crucified God reveals a profound truth that God does not stand apart from human suffering but enters into it in solidarity. Not only for us but with us. We do not carry pain alone, and in truth we cannot. There are two great paths by which the human soul comes to God, the path of great love and the path of great suffering. In the end they are the same path. To love deeply is to risk suffering, and to suffer honestly is to discover the depth of love. Still, the disciples cannot remain on the mountain. Jesus leads them back down into the ordinary world, into healing, teaching, confronting injustice, and ultimately walking toward the cross. When Jesus tells them not to speak of what they have seen, perhaps it is because glory cannot be borrowed from someone else’s story. It must be lived. Each of us must climb our own mountain. Each of us must experience our own transfiguration. And each of us must walk back down into the world carrying that light into daily life.

 

-        Lilly Pushpam PBVM