Listening to the Light
Matthew 17: 1-13
February 3, 2008
Leslie A. Klingensmith

"The most beautiful emotion we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of all true art and science. The one to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead, a snuffed-out candle. To sense that behind anything that can be experienced there is something that our minds cannot grasp, whose beauty and sublimity reaches us only indirectly: this is religiousness. In this sense, and in this sense only, I am a devoutly religious man (Albert Einstein, 1930, Einstein: His Life and Universe, p. 387)." This is a quote from the chapter entitled Einstein's God from the biography of Albert Einstein that was published about a year ago called Einstein: His Life and Universe.

At the peak of his career, Albert Einstein, who was a non-practicing Jew, was under pressure from all sides - academic institutions, the secular press, and religious organizations (Christian and Jewish) - to articulate whether or not he believed in God and what was the nature of his religious faith. What I just read is the conclusion of his personal credo "What I Believe," which he composed in 1930. I do not agree with Einstein on everything - for example, he did not believe in any kind of personal God who experienced emotions or was in any way involved in daily life. He did, however, have a fascination with Jesus and believed that his historical existence was unquestionable. He once said "No one can read the Gospels without feeling the actual presence of Jesus. His personality pulsates in every word. No myth is filled with such life (Einstein, p. 386)." In spite of the fact that he did not believe in widely accepted Jewish and Christian doctrines like immortality and free will, he did believe in the creative, ordering power of God. He had an almost childlike (in the best sense of that word) reverence for God. His appreciation for the elegant ordering of God's creation was arguably the greatest of anyone who has ever lived. One time, when confronted by an atheist who could not believe that a genius like Dr. Einstein could have any kind of faith in God, Einstein replied "Try and penetrate with our limited means the secrets of nature and you will find that, behind all the discernible laws and connections, there remains something subtle, intangible, and inexplicable. Veneration for this force beyond anything that we can comprehend is my religion (Einstein, p.p. 384-385)."

In spite of divergences in our theologies, the closing statement of Einstein's credo is one of the most poetic and theologically beautiful articulations of faith that I have ever read. It is his awe in the face of mystery that moves me, as well as his humility. He knew that no matter how brilliant he was, there was an underlying presence, a creative power, that he would never fully comprehend. The transfiguration story is one of the most mysterious in all of scripture, Old or New Testament. It is a story that opens us to the possibilities of encounter with the divine and humbles us at the same time. Many who read the story of the transfiguration have trouble with it - people who do not believe in anything supernatural or miraculous could easily read this and dismiss it as hallucination or fantasy, from a factual standpoint. Even people who are open to the possibility of miracles wonder what is going on here. When Jesus' face shines like the sun and his clothes turn a brilliant white, what is the significance of that? What does the appearance of Moses and Elijah mean? There is a lot going on here, but wherever we fall on the spectrum of what we believe is happening literally, perhaps we can agree that Jesus' transfiguration is an encounter with the mysterious, a glimpse of that subtle, never-fully-knowable nature of God to which Albert Einstein referred so eloquently. It is possible that the transformation is not so much with Jesus, but with the disciples - their hearts were opened to the point that (perhaps for the first time) they could see Jesus for who he was, in his full glory.

Last week we looked at cues that Jesus was the One long promised and that his ministry was officially beginning. As Jesus' following grows and his radical teachings are more widely discussed, and his inevitable destiny draws near, perhaps those closest to him need some major coaching - they need to be reminded what is going to happen to their friend and teacher. Furthermore, they need to be educated as to how to make the most of the short time they have left with him and what they are going to be called upon to do when he is gone. God chooses to communicate with the disciples in a mysterious way, one that will inspire them and that they will remember for the rest of their days. That is some of what is going on with the transfiguration.

It seems logical to me that the bright light that bathes Jesus' face and the transformation of Jesus' clothing would bring to mind Jesus' divine nature. Think of all the paintings and other artistic renderings of Jesus that we have seen over the years - so often he is depicted with some kind of otherworldly glow, as if to emphasize that yes, he is a mortal being but his divinity takes precedence over his humanity. Surprisingly, New Testament scholar Douglas Hare argues that the transfiguration is not intended to depict evidence of Jesus' divine nature but of his humanity. Hare points out that the phrase "shine like the sun" is used in Matthew 13:43 to describe how all righteous people will look when they are at last in God's kingdom, so to say that Jesus' face "shone like the sun" is the writer of Matthew's way of saying "He is one of us. He is an especially righteous one of us, but one of us all the same." Likewise, the appearance of Moses and Elijah is intended to confirm that Jesus is part of a long line of prophetic leaders, each called by God for a specific task of leadership. Another detail that Hare points out is that during the moment of transfiguration Jesus does not really do anything. He is totally passive as he is bathed in light and his clothing is transformed. Hare looks back at theophanies (encounters with God) in the Bible - the burning bush, the swirl sweeping past Moses on the mountaintop, and the voice from the cloud at Jesus baptism - and says that when God chooses to show Godself, God is active. God does not stand there waiting for something to happen.

Perhaps the detail of the story that most supports this theory that the transfiguration is not about divinity but humanity is that God appears later. It would be out of sync for God to appear in one form - that of Jesus bathed in light - and then reappear just moments later. Verse 5 - here's that bright cloud again, and a voice saying verbatim what was said at Jesus baptism. "This is my Son, the Beloved, with him I am well pleased. But there is an addendum this time. "Listen to him!" It is at this moment, not at the moment of transfiguration, that the disciples fall to the ground, overcome by fear. As startling and mystifying as Jesus' physical change is, at some level the disciples still know that he is someone with whom they are familiar, their friend and their teacher. When they hear God's voice, however, they know that something truly significant is taking place - this is more than a light show. Understandably, they are overwhelmed by the power and presence of God.

God's closing command jumped out at me. The first words are familiar, as they echo Jesus' baptism. But this imperative, spoken with such emphasis - Listen to him! We think of the transfiguration and we mentally focus on the visual details that are so well-known to us. But what is the main thing God is trying to get across to us? We need to listen. Listening may be the most difficult of all the spiritual disciplines. Someone once asked Mother Theresa to teach them her secret of prayer. "What do you say to God?" the person asked Mother Theresa. "I don't say anything, I just listen" she replied. "Oh," the person said, probably somewhat puzzled. "So what does God say?" "God does not say anything," she responded. "God just listens." (PAUSE)

Peter, James, and John have been with Jesus from the first moments of his public ministry. Their devotion to him is evident. No doubt Peter is well-intentioned when he wants to get right to work. "It is good for us to be here," Peter says. "How about if I put up some tents - one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah?" Before the words can even come all the way out of Peter's mouth, there is a holy interruption, and God's admonition to the disciples that they listen to what Jesus has to say to them. As I said, it is human nature to want to roll up our sleeves and get right to work. We see something wrong and we want to make it right, something broken and we want to fix it. It makes sense that Peter would want to create shelter for two people who were so revered in his faith tradition, and to honor one who clearly has such an important role in his people's future. One can hardly blame Peter for his reaction. But God puts the brakes on and says "Just listen for a moment."

Perhaps what God is getting at is that Jesus' teaching has to take priority for any actions that we perform in his name to have any meaning at all. We can have the best intentions in the world, but if we are so distracted by our tasks that we cannot hear the voice of God, our actions are in danger of being misguided. When we encounter that light of Christ, we must be compelled to listen. What we can learn from this person can change not only our lives, but also the lives of people whom we encounter. Once we absorb something of who Jesus is and what he can teach us, then he can send us out into the various spheres of our lives where we can, through what we do and say, make his healing love and thirst for justice a reality for people who are desperate to experience them.

In closing, I want to raise a possibility and a challenge for this upcoming Lenten season. The possibility is that mystery still exists. Science has solved a lot of the old conundrums - Einstein himself puzzled his way through many of them. But even he could not grasp the Ultimate Mystery, the one he referred to often as the Old One. As I mentioned earlier, however, perhaps the true miracle of the transfiguration is not the changes that Peter, James, and, John saw in Jesus, but the fact that they were able to see them. They were able to recognize the light of Christ. It is doubtful that any of us are going to have an experience like the one Matthew describes in the next few weeks, but I am betting that that light of Christ is still shining in mysterious and unexpected ways. Let's open ourselves to that light. The challenge comes from that light - I am assuming we will experience the light in some way, if we only can discern where and how to look for it. Once we find it, though, we have to listen to it. We have to shut down the cacophony of our brains and take in whatever it is that Jesus is trying to say to us. Let's look - and listen - together. Who knows where the light may lead us?

Amen