Transfiguration C

Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2; Luke 9:28-36

When is the last time that God’s booming voice told you to do something?

I don’t doubt that it does happen — it happened for Peter, John, and James, after all. God uses all kinds of different ways to communicate to humans.

I can’t speak for others’ experiences, but in my experience, and the experience of most of the people I know, God just doesn’t normally do this.

I have spoken with people who have had these kinds of supernatural experiences, and of course, that’s for them to make meaning of, but for me…if I heard the loud voice of God in my house, I would check for a gas leak.

The truth is that most people will live their entire lives without experiencing God talking to them through dazzling light and clouds. Does it mean God is missing from our lives?

As rational and scientific as I like to pretend that I am — I’d be lying if I said I didn’t yearn for God to shout out every once in a while. For God to pick up that Road Raging driver in front of me, to tell him “No!” like you would train a puppy, and then put his car back down on the road.

I think most Christians probably end up with this complex where we wish we could go back to the good ol’ days when God walked through the Garden of Eden and pointed out various trees and animals. When God actually spoke from mountain tops and told you what to do.

And, I think most Christians look forward to the future in the same way…to some point when all the loose ends will be tied up, when God will finally be revealed and tell us ‘well done good and faithful servants’ and then explain all of life’s mysteries to us.

We spend a lot of time looking to the past and future revelations of God…but we find it really hard to talk about God’s presence in the…present. Maybe we’re scared if we look too hard for God in the present, that we won’t find anything.

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At first glance, it might appear that all our texts today are about God’s booming and glorious presence. They all seem to suggest that God enjoys using these clear and mighty signs to communicate. But the more I think about them, the more I wonder if that’s true.

In our reading from 2 Corinthians, Paul reflects on the story from Exodus when Moses is forced to wear a veil over his face after he communicates with God because the way his face looks after these encounters scares everyone else.

But Paul says that the veil is also metaphorical, and even still as God’s people hear the Word that a veil covers our minds unless it is set aside by Christ.

What is the veil that lies over our minds?

I always thought the veil in the story of Moses was needed to dumb down and filter out the overwhelming glory of God: that the splendor of God would be too much for us…that if we actually saw God face to face that our faces would melt off like that terrifying scene from Indiana Jones when the Ark of the Covenant is opened.

But what if the veil was exactly the opposite? What if the people needed Moses to wear the veil in order to make God seem more other-worldly? More show-offy? More like a Super Bowl Halftime Show. More like our expectation for what God should look like.

What if the people demanded the veil to make God seem more transcendent and further away, when instead, all along, God has wanted to be more present, more available to us?

What if the veil that lies over our minds is our need for impressiveness and might? Our insistence on visible glory?

This is exactly what is going on today’s Gospel reading which relates this strange experience that Christians now call the Transfiguration. In this story, the three closest disciples of Jesus climb up a (literal and metaphorical) mountain with him to pray. We know that the disciples, like everyone, longed for dramatic signs to prove that Jesus was indeed the Son of God…and to a certain extent, God indulges them. Jesus appears in dazzling light and suddenly he’s conversing with Moses and Elijah.

And then Peter starts talking. Usually, at this point I make fun of Peter and his confused response to the situation, but now I understand him. He must think, “finally.” Finally, everyone can see the truth about Jesus. No more parables and riddles. No more arguments and ridicule. If he could just capture this moment. If he could build some foundation for this scene to keep going, then everyone could clearly see how powerful Jesus was. Peter wants to build the stage for this Superbowl Halftime Show.

But then the power becomes terrifying. God speaks through a cloud and says, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” And just as God refers to the Son, they find just Jesus. Not neon Jesus, or cloud Jesus. Not Jesus, pal of Moses and Elijah. Not Superbowl Jesus. Just Jesus.

This is how God wants to be seen. Not out of this world, but right in this world. Not just in the past, nor just in the future, but right now.

Why is it so hard to see the Kingdom of God in the present?

No sooner has the dust settled from the Transfiguration than Jesus is climbing down the mountain and getting right to work healing and restoring others. This is God’s Chosen. This is the Christ we are called to follow: Jesus in the mess of life, bringing hope in the mundane.

We are called to see the world transfigured — to see the world in a new way. To notice the Kingdom of God in the world we actually live in. The presence of God in the present.

As near as a neighbor in need. As near as an awkward, stumbling prayer said among a few people who recognize the need for it.

As boring as taking just a few moments to read from scripture and reflect on God’s Word for you on any given day.

As risky as speaking out for someone who can’t do it themselves. As foolish as believing without worry that God will provide day after day.

In these moments, in our world, in the present, we are, like Paul said, “seeing with unveiled faces the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror.”